


I Need You To Need Me

by alyse_b



Series: Shine Up the Old Brown Shoes (Put On a Brand New Shirt) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Jokes, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, Temporary Character Death, honestly mostly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-20 20:50:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyse_b/pseuds/alyse_b
Summary: Prince Bucky's world is torn apart when he insults an Enchantress and she places a curse on him and his castle. Not knowing what it's like to love and be loved, Bucky struggles to break the curse. At least until a certain blond stumbles upon his castle.In this sequel to I Want You To Want Me, we get Bucky's point of view on a tale as old as time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's taken FOREVER, but it's finally here! Thank you to all of you who put up with my ridiculously long turnover time. I know this one took a lot longer for me to get out than IWY2WM, but I'm excited to show it to you guys!
> 
> Here's a quick update, to explain how often I'll be getting chapters out and what's coming next:  
> I'm taking a break from college, but I have a full time job. So it'll hopefully be pretty smooth sailing from here on out. My beta-reader did start her new year of college already, so as we finish editing I'll be posting chapters. As soon as everything is ready to be posted, I'm going to start working on a new fic! This next one is going to be Klance (from Voltron: Legendary Defender), and I'm super excited to start it, so hopefully you'll be interested in that one as well! If not, I thank you anyway for hanging with me for these two fics!!
> 
> I love you all and I hope you're all doing well! Enjoy!

            James couldn’t help but prowl the edges of the dance floor, eyes roaming the guests who had accepted his invitation to the ball. Of course, he had tried to choose only the fairest of maidens and gents to invite, but sometimes they brought friends or ended up not what he expected. So, he always spent the beginning of every dance scoping out the lucky attendees who would be his dance partners for the night. He never spent much time with just one partner. After all, where was the fun in just one play thing?

            The dance had been thrown for his birthday, the ballroom lit up with hundreds of candles and the glittering chandelier high above. The floors shone so cleanly that it threw people’s reflections back at them, just as James liked. The balcony doors were shut against a storm that had brewed up soon after the ball had started. A table of food was against one wall, filled with sweets that Peggy had made, after James’ long selection process.

            James had seen Peggy sometime before the dance started, flour in her brown hair but beaming proudly all the same. Peggy was always an amazing cook, though James never mentioned such. He would only point out when her lipstick had smudged or the very rare occasion she did make a small mistake. When he was young, his parents would scold him for treating the help so rudely, but they died too early for them to have any real impact.

            Since then, he’d grown up to be quite the spoiled brat. He couldn’t really bring himself to care, though. He just ended up throwing a lot of parties for the royal and worthy. James knew he was expected to settle down soon, but he wasn’t worried about it. Until the day he was absolutely required to choose a bride, he would continue to jump from victim to victim.

            There. A grin spread across the young prince’s face as he spotted his first target, dancing on the other side of the room. He straightened his back, putting on his most charming smile as he crossed the room. James didn’t miss the way people’s eyes followed him as he went, he was used to the complete and total attention. When he reached the one he had chosen, they and their partner paused in their dance.

            James bowed low, looking up through his eyelashes, “I couldn’t help but notice… well, you. Could I have this dance?”

            The girl he had picked out practically jumped out of her shoes in excitement, eyes brightening even as her dance partner seemed to deflate. She nodded, taking James’ outstretched hand and immediately gushing all over him. As James spun her away, he locked eyes with her previous partner and winked, bringing a blush out across the other man’s cheeks.

            Pleased with this reaction, James made a mental note to come back for the man. For now, he turned his attention to the girl, reeling her in close. He gave her his signature smile, the barest flash of teeth, and was rewarded with a flutter of her eyelashes.

            One hand held one of hers, while the other rested on her hip. Natasha would smack him if she saw him with his hand so low. She had taught him to dance herself, and had been the closest he had to supervision for years. They were the same age about, but she was more responsible than him. She would add on that she was more mature, as well. She had always been diligent on making sure his hands were at her waist, and usually scolded him if she noticed his hands any lower on someone else. She said it was disrespectful, but James didn’t want to keep these people from what they wanted.

            As he danced with the girl, he decided there wasn’t really anything special about her. She caught his eye initially but that’s all it was; a brief glance and she was gorgeous, but look any longer and she was boring, average. So, James stopped their dance, giving her a crisp nod before wandering off to find someone else.

            This time it was a man who grabbed his attention and he grinned widely as he came closer. Taller, a finely chiseled jaw, a nice ass; just the kind of person he wanted to be seen with. “What brings a guy like you to a silly ball like this?”

            When the other man turned to see who it was speaking to him, he froze and stumbled over a response. Nothing remarkable, just a hello and an attempt to answer James’ question.

            “Dance with me.” James interrupted his struggle, holding out a hand and raising an eyebrow to show he wouldn’t take no for an answer. So of course, the man nodded and took James’ hand.

The prince let the other man lead this time, since James himself was actually shorter. When the guy ended up stumbling over his own two feet and making James look bad, the prince stepped back again. Dusting off his suit jacket, he gave his dance partner a frustrated look before walking away to find another partner, another distraction.

            “Sir?” James paused at Sam’s voice, turning toward him. Sam was one of the people who managed the other servants. He made sure the busboys and cooks were doing what they were supposed to. When he wasn’t working, Sam was usually wooing the ladies that James had deemed unworthy of his own presence.

            “Ah, Sam. Just the man I wanted to see. Mind finding me a drink? Scotch.”

            “But, sir, there’s—“

            “No drink in my hand.” James finished for him, giving him a pointed look.

            He watched something twitch in Sam’s dark jaw, but the other man just nodded curtly and walked away to fulfill his master’s request.

            As James picked up his search for a dance partner again, a woman actually came up to him first.

            She smiled widely, painted lips bright over white teeth. Her dark hair fell in ringlets over her shoulders and her eyes looked James up and down, examining. The woman had everything James was looking for, curves and a wickedness that was sure to keep him entertained.

            However, as she started to speak to him, James found her to be the exact opposite of what he wanted, mentally. She was too confident, too vocal. He wanted a pretty thing to hang on his arm, not someone with an opinion.

            The smile that had found itself upon his face when the woman had come up to him initially melted away until his lips pressed together in a tight line.

            She noticed, and asked what was wrong.

            “You’re too much. You’ve been talking my ear off, it’s annoying.” James stepped away from her, leaving her staring agape at him as he left her company.

            He continued his night this way, drifting from partner to partner. A few dances in later, he spotted someone across the room. A head taller than himself, broad shoulders, tiny waist, blond hair carefully tamed, frankly _amazing_ ass. The man’s back was to James, though, and he couldn’t get a good look at his face.

            Frustrated with his inability to fully see whoever it was that captured his attention, James left his current companion in the middle of the dance floor. As he worked his way toward his next target, people moved between them and obstructed James’ view.

            James growled in frustration, but by the time he had pushed past the other guests, the other man was nowhere to be seen. He turned on the spot, scanning the room for any sign of those broad shoulders. He began stalking the room again, but instead of looking for a random fling, he searched for the blond.

            Even under the man’s suit, James had seen the slight bulge of biceps and muscles shifting across his back. It had sent a small thrill through him. With those kinds of muscles, that man could push James up against a wall easily.

            Shivering lightly even in the warm room, James kept on with his search. He was starting to consider getting Natasha to help him, when someone spoke behind him, “Prince James?”

            Hoping to find the blond, James turned and was met with disappointment when he came face to face with a dark-haired man. Dark stubble lined his jaw, coming up over his chin and above his upper lip. Not exactly James’ type, especially when he was on a mission.

            The man stuck a hand out, accompanying it with a grin, “Brock Rumlow. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

            James took his hand briefly, shaking it even as he looked past Rumlow and kept eyeing the room around him, “Yeah, you too.”

            At this point, many of the guests had started to filter out. A storm was slowly coming in, rain drizzling on the windows, and they wanted to beat the worst of it home. Which James hoped would just make it easier to find his mystery boy. Of course, he supposed he could always just throw another ball and search for the man again.

            Rumlow seemed displeased that James wasn’t paying him any attention, expression dropping into a frown, “Sir?”

            “If you’ll excuse me. I’m looking for someone.” James brushed past him. Behind him, he heard the other man scoff and he couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

            James came to find that the guy he was looking for had been one of the first to leave. As he continued to look, people kept leaving until the only people still in the hall were James and a handful of servants.

            Sam came to him again, “Sir. There’s something you need to see.”

            “Sam,” James sighed, turning toward the dark-skinned man, “I never got my drink.”

            Sam didn’t even twitch, just continued to watch James, “There’s a woman who wishes to speak with you in the study.”

            This gave James a pause and he felt the edges of his lips drag down into a frown, “A woman? Who?”

            “I don’t know, sir. She didn’t give a name.”

            Casting Sam one last look, James stepped out of the ballroom. Annoyance bubbled deep in his chest. How long had the woman been there? Why hadn’t Sam told him about her sooner? What in the hell did she even want this late at night?

            His foot falls echoed against the walls of the large entryway as he made his journey to the study. Candles were lit at intervals along the walls, casting a soft light to guide his way. The door to the study was ajar, light flickering from within no doubt from a blazing fire in the fireplace.

            James opened the door wider as he made his way inside. The woman was sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the fire, and he could see the dark, ratty clothes that covered her arms.

            As he grew closer, he wrinkled his nose against the stench wafting off the woman. He’d probably have to throw the chair away entirely to rid his study of the smell.

            Coming around to stand in front of the chair, he took a step back as he took in the woman’s haggard appearance. She was old, wrinkles covering every inch of dark, exposed skin. Her fingers were like pointed branches, sticking out of the rags she wore as clothing. Her feet were shoved into shoes riddled with holes and looking to be two sizes too small. Matted gray hair covered her head in patches, sticking out every which way. She looked up at James with sunken green eyes, thin lips pulling back to reveal just a handful of rotten teeth in what could only be described as a grin.

            “Hello, dearie.” The woman’s voice scratched across James’ ears like nails on a chalkboard, making him grimace.

            James pulled himself to his full height even as he took a step back, “What are you doing in my castle? What do you want?”

            “Oh dear, I was only looking for shelter. You see, I was on my way into town when this storm cropped up. This castle was the first structure I came upon.” As James looked closer, he could see that the woman’s clothing was soaked, dripping dirty water on the rug beneath the chair.

            James made a disgusted sound, “We have no room for any visitors. And you’re ruining my furniture. Get out of my castle.”

            The woman’s lips turned down in a frown and she stood slowly, bones creaking in refusal. She was small, her short stature defined even more by the way she slouched. James watched as she reached beneath her robes for something, her eyes never leaving his.

            From within the rags, the old woman drew a single rose, holding it daintily between her fingers to avoid the thorns jutting out along the stem. The blood red petals of the rose were a shock of color against the browns and greys that made up the woman’s appearance. “Please, sir. Just give me shelter from the storm. I offer you this as a gift in return.”

            James sneered. A rose? That’s what this woman thought would make up for the way she looked? Again, he turned her away, “I don’t want your gifts, you old hag. Get out, I will not ask again.”

            A new light seemed to spark in the old woman’s eyes and she straightened, her back cracking as she drew herself up. Moving faster than James would have thought possible for someone of her age, the old woman drew a thin wand from her sleeve. As she raised it above her head, the fire roared in the fireplace, spitting flames past the gate and across the mantle. The sudden flare of light caused James to throw a hand in front of his eyes, and when he pulled his hand away again, he was stunned into silence.

            Before him stood a gorgeous woman, dark hair tumbling down her shoulders in tight curls. Her skin was smooth and reminded James of the expensive chocolates he enjoyed, not a single blemish to be seen. A green silk gown flowed about her, making her eyes shine like emeralds even as she stared at James in disappointment. At her feet, a pile of old, wet rags lay in a pile. In one hand, she held a thin golden wand, and in the other, a beautiful red rose. Her very presence brought the atmosphere to life and the air around them crackled with magic.

            James recognized the woman immediately to be an enchantress and he felt his eyes widen. He dropped to his knees, bowing before her, “My lady, I did not realize…”

            “That was the point, James. You would turn away an old woman, your elder, because of the way she looks?” The enchantress’ voice rang out clear and bright, demanding of James’ attention.

            James dared a peek up at her, “My lady, please, it has been a long night…”

            “The night does not matter. Any day I could have done this. You would have failed no matter the occasion. I have seen your heart, boy, and there is no love within it.”

            The words struck James, fear coursing through him. The woman above him was angry and he knew only bad things could come from angering a sorceress. “I beg your forgiveness…”

            “I will not give it. A lesson must be learned here, James.” He watched as the enchantress swept her arms wide, “Listen well. I lay a curse upon you and your castle. Until you can learn to love another, and earn their love in return, you will live out your years as nearly a beast. And as a reminder of your task…”

            With a flick of her wrist, the rose flew from the enchantress’ grasp. The flower grew until it was as wide as James’ shoulder, the stem thickened, the thorns swelled. As the petals laid themselves upon James’ shoulder, the stem wound its way down his arm all the way to his wrist, where the roots buried themselves in his veins.

            James cried out, his skin lighting up like fire as the thorns dug into his skin and blood trickled in hot trails down his arm. The sting of the thorns was a sharp contrast against the silky petals splayed across his shoulder.

            The enchantress waved her wand and a muzzle fixed itself upon James’ face, covering his nose and mouth, “Just a little extra something to keep you from hurting anyone else.” Another wave of the hand, and a small hand mirror appeared on the side table by his chair, “And something to remind you of the world you are missing out on.”

            He lifted his head, tongue already curling around a plea for a second chance, but the enchantress was gone. The deed was done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two for you all! We're going to dive a little deeper into the curse in this chapter and get a bit more information on Bucky and his castle. I hope you enjoy! Feel free to leave comments or come talk to me on tumblr (my username is bucky-butt)!

After the curse was laid upon the castle, days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. James locked himself away in his room for the better part of the day, only daring to come out at night.

The muzzle the enchantress had placed upon him made it hard for him to breathe, and he had removed it soon after the curse had been set in place. It sat on his dresser, an imposing reminder of what had happened, because he couldn’t throw it away. He feared the enchantress would return if he destroyed it.

The paintings he had done, each depicting his growth over the years, mocked him from the walls of his bedroom in the west wing. His own smiling face seemed to laugh at him from every portrait, grinning down at him as he suffered day after day.

He took knives to the paintings, cutting and tearing at them until all that was left was ribbons. The only one to truly survive was his most recent portrait, where he only made a few cuts before he realized his eyes. They were the one thing about him that hadn’t changed; still the soft grey that his mother used to comment on.

James took his frustration out on the mirrors next, the glass shattering under his fists until his knuckles bled. The broken glass reflected what little light made its way into the west wing, throwing it like starlight across the walls and ceiling. He tried fruitlessly to break the little hand mirror, but the glass always repaired itself, sealing cracks and splinters like flowing water filling a ravine. He eventually ended up throwing it into a dresser and pretending it didn’t exist.

His servants began to disappear, and he would swear that he had more furniture than he used to. Sam came up to the west wing one day to tell him that the youngest of their workers, Peter, had vanished. He shifted from foot to foot as he reported it, seeming nervous.

“Is there something else you need to tell me?” James’ voice came out a growl and he lifted his eyes from the floor to focus on the other man.

Sam shook his head, “No, sir. Nothing else. Peggy almost has dinner ready…”

“Have it sent up.” James turned away, picking at the rose set into his shoulder. It’d been months since he’d gone down to eat dinner in the dining room. Some days he considered leaving his room, wanted out of the confined space. Other days, like today, he wanted nothing more than to ignore the world and stay inside his own head.

The longer he suffered with this curse, the more animal he could feel himself becoming. His mind would haze over and it was like he was watching his life through someone else’s eyes. As his body stalked through the halls, spooking at every small sound, his mind was helpless to just watch.

It scared him, that feeling of no control. Some mornings he would wake up surrounded by shredded bed sheets and clothes, with no memory of what had happened the night before. Cold spots of amnesia stood stark and contrasted against the warm glow of his memories.

Sam sighed, nodding as he stepped back out.

Two days later, Peggy disappeared. The cooking stayed the same, though, and James swore they had a new teapot.

Sam soon stopped coming up to speak to him and keep him updated, and James eventually accepted the fact that he had vanished as well. Instead, Natasha came up one afternoon, lips set into a thin line.

“James. We need to talk.”

James turned briefly, leveling a glare in her direction. That morning, he had woken to the feathers from his pillow floating around him, the soft cloth covering ripped to shreds. The last thing he remembered from the day before was pushing his still mostly full plate from dinner away from him, appetite having left him.

Natasha didn’t wait for permission to speak, just kept going, “Most of the staff has gone missing. There’s only a few of us left. It’s time to stop wallowing. You’re obviously suffering from this, it’s time to do something about it.”

“There’s nothing  _to_  do, Natasha. Don’t you think I’ve been trying to figure out a way to break the curse?”

His old friend didn’t look impressed, raising one eyebrow as she observed him, “I think the way to break the curse was pretty clear.”

James growled, flinching back as he felt his mind begin to recede and the animal nature in him begin to step forward. “The curse can’t be broken. It’s impossible. Don’t you see? That was the whole point. The enchantress doesn’t want me to break it.”

The fiery redhead crossed her arms over her chest, “Since when do you actually listen to what people say? Since when do you let other people control you?”

James felt anger bubble up deep in his chest as he stood, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she took everything from me! Do you think anyone wants anything to do with someone like me? Someone with a curse? There’s a fucking  _rose_  embedded in my skin! There are scars on my arm that I’ve never had before, marks and blemishes, who could possibly love all of this?”

“The problem isn’t your skin, James. It’s your attitude. You have to get your head out of your ass. You have to find it in you to love.” Even as she watched James thunder away in front of her, Natasha kept her voice even. She didn’t raise her volume, and her eyes never left James’ face.

James felt his hands shaking as they curled into fists. “Get out,” The words were practically spat out as he gritted his teeth, turning away. The beast within him was ready to rear its ugly head, and the last thing he wanted was Natasha to see what he had become.

“Just give it some thought, James. We’re all here to support you.” Natasha’s voice softened fractionally before she swept from the room.

As James threw a hand across the nearest table, knocking glasses and candlesticks to the floor, he didn’t realize it was the last conversation he would have with Natasha, before she disappeared too.

After another week, James made his way down to the library once everyone else had gone to sleep. He’d gotten better at keeping his footfalls light and he memorized each floorboard that creaks with enough weight.

At first, he intended to simply wander, but his feet had a different plan. They took him to the library and he opened the doors, grimacing at the quiet creak of protest.

His bare feet padded almost silently across the wood floor and he made his way to the fireplace, sinking into his favorite armchair.

He had thought long and hard about what the enchantress said about loving another and them loving him in return. Getting someone to love him was the easy part, everyone loved him. James had also figured out already that loving himself didn’t count, either. Perhaps he could trick the curse into thinking he loved someone.

That was it! He would find a suitor and spoil them to no end, trick the enchantress into believing he loved them, and then he would be free!

James brightened immensely, feeling like he finally had some kind of plan. He would be human again in no time.

He set to work immediately, writing a letter to one of the women who had shown up to several of the balls he’d thrown. He’d danced with her at each one, and he knew she was attractive; his act wouldn’t be too hard to pull off. James wrote to her, requesting her presence at the castle. With no doubt that she would reply, and follow close behind her response, James sent the letter out.

“Can you see what he’s doing?” The whispers came from the shadows, making James’ head jerk up as he looked wildly around the room.

He stood from his chair, even as the voice at the back of his head told him to run back to the west wing before someone saw him. “Who’s there?”

“Oh, now you’ve done it.” Another voice hissed, as the sound of ceramic clattering against ceramic came from a tabletop.

James inched closer to the sound, grabbing a letter opener from the mantle, “Show yourselves. I order you.”

“Might as well. He’d find out eventually.” Now James recognized the voice as Sam’s. That couldn’t be possible though, it’d been weeks since he’d seen the other man.

A candle flickered to life, then two more, each set into the arm and head of a small candelabra. Before James had a chance to look around for whoever had lit the wicks, the candelabra moved, shifting forward as the wax began to morph.

James scrambled back when two eyes appeared in the wax, and the candle developed a crease along the base, forming a mouth, “What the fuck!”

“Sir, please. It’s just me. It’s Sam.” The candle’s mouth moved easily around the words. Behind the ‘lips,’ James could just make out a small gap in the two front teeth, a sight he’d become accustomed to seeing every day.

But how was that even possible? Sam had vanished, hadn’t been seen in ages, just like the rest of his staff.

As he stared at the candelabra with wide eyes, it spoke up again, “Listen, I know this is weird, but I don’t know what to tell you. It’s… It’s the curse.”

“What do you mean?” James’ own voice came out barely a whisper and he felt his hands begin to shake. In an attempt to hide the display of weakness, he tucked his hands up into his armpits.

Sam shook his head, moving the arms of the candelabra,  _his_  arms, in what must have been a shrug, “A week or so after you got cursed, the staff started to disappear. Eventually, we realized that they weren’t disappearing. They were…  _changing_. They were turning into furniture or household objects. After some time, it happened to all of us.”

He took his time processing this information, and as he fell silent, something else moved in the shadows behind Sam.

A little ceramic teapot, the same one he’d noticed soon after Peggy disappeared, moved into the light of Sam’s candles. Eyes opened up and red lips unfolded below the spout, “James…”

“Oh my God. Peggy…”

The lips turned up in a sad smile as the teapot hopped closer, lid clattering with each movement, “How are you, dear?”

“I’m…I… I don’t know.” James felt his shoulders slump and he looked away. He hated this, feeling helpless and small, like he was five years old again. Sam, Natasha, and Peggy were probably the closest he had had to friends since he was a young boy. He could only hope that Natasha had simply turned into something around the castle as well, and not left completely. For this to happen to them, because of  _him_ , James actually felt a pang of remorse in his chest.

Peggy just watched him quietly, “What was the letter for, James?”

The letter. The letter! He’d nearly forgotten, but now he looked up with newfound hope, “I sent a letter to Princess Dolores. She’s been to a few of the balls. She’s pretty, and she’s agreeable. She already loves me, and I’ll just make the curse think that I love her as well. She’ll be spoiled as all hell and then the curse will lift. We’ll all be fine!”

Peggy’s lips thinned out briefly, the way they did whenever she disapproved of something James was doing. He didn’t ask about it though, because he’d seen the look enough, and he knew that his plan was bound to work.

“You’ll see… you’ll be human again. And I’ll be rid of this damn rose.”

Peggy and Sam shared a look as he turned away, though he elected to ignore it. Everything would be fine. They’d see.

Not two weeks later, Princess Dolores showed up in her finest carriage, hair done up in an elegant bun. James met her in the courtyard, long sleeves and a black glove covering the rose on his left arm.

Since their first dance, James had started calling her Dot, and he liked her not only for her fair skin and small figure, but she easily gave her mind over to James as well. No matter what he said, Dot would agree with him, giggling and twirling her hair around her fingers. She was easy to tolerate; exactly what James was looking for.

He held her hand as she delicately stepped from the carriage, giving him a smile as he kissed her cheek. “My lady. Can I interest you in a walk? My help will have tea ready for us later.”

Dot nodded an affirmative, smiling widely as she took his offered arm.

James walked her to the gardens, where they walked among the short hedges, “It’s been awhile, Dot.”

“It has. We didn’t get a chance to dance at your last ball.”

James frowned lightly, thinking back to that ball, his last before the curse fell upon his castle. He had only gotten a few dances in before his attention had been demanded by that blond, for whom he had searched for the rest of the night. “Yes, well… I got a bit distracted.”

Dot nodded, leaning into his shoulder as they walked. She continued to ask James about what he had been up to since they had last seen each other, and he was careful to gloss over the past months he’d struggled through.

As promised, when the two returned from their walk, tea was ready in the dining room. James saw Dot glance curiously at the tightly closed doors to his study, which James hadn’t entered since the incident. In response, he had pulled her a bit faster to the dining room, pulling her chair out for her.

Dot stayed with him for a month, spoiled this way and that by James, because that’s what people do, right? They spoil the person they love? James would kiss her cheek every morning at breakfast and every night before they went to their separate rooms. He put in every effort and did everything he could think of to make it look like he loved her.

Finally, James pulled his final card, asking Dot to marry him. She had hopped in excitement and threw her arms around his neck as she planted a kiss on his mouth. James had moved his left arm away from her and had pulled away as soon as he could. If she felt the rose under his clothing, James’ entire plan would be destroyed, and he was so close.

Planning for the wedding began immediately, Dot gushing over dresses and flowers while James sat back and marveled at his own genius. His fiancée’s excitement flooded through the day and on into the night, when instead of giving James a kiss at the stairs before going to her separate bedroom, Dot took his hand and pulled James along behind her. Even as clothes hit the floor, James insisted on leaving his long-sleeved shirt on. He agreed to take the glove off, as long as the lights stayed low.

Even as their breath mingled and the room echoed with the sound of skin sliding against skin, James only felt excitement to be rid of the curse. Hope coursed through him, as his hips stuttered to a stop and he clutched Dot close to his chest, like the lifeline he saw her as.

The frail woman twisted in his arms to kiss his jaw, murmuring the words James hungered for against his skin, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” James responded in kind, smiling as he waited for the curse to lift, for the rose to disappear.

And waited.

And waited.

James frowned, sitting up and touching his left shoulder. He felt the soft petals give beneath his palm, and thorns still pressed against the fabric. His stomach dropped and his vision went red in anger.

When he stumbled to his feet, hands shaking violently, Dot rolled over in concern, asking what was wrong.

“It didn’t  _work_. This was supposed to fix everything and it  _didn’t work_!” James voice grew in volume as he watched the woman in front of him shrink back against the pillows with wide eyes.

“I don’t understand, my love—“

“Don’t call me that! Obviously you don’t love me, otherwise it would have worked! It’s  _your_  fault!” James didn’t realize he had plucked the water glass from the nightstand and threw it against the wall until he heard the glass shatter and Dot’s scream.

He roughly carded his hands through his hair as his entire frame shook, and he growled, “Get the fuck out. Get out!”

James didn’t wait to see if Dot listened to him, just turned around and stalked back to the west wing. The few tables and chairs that had survived his previous tirades stood no chance now, getting flung carelessly against the walls and across the room until all James heard was splintering wood and the blood rushing in his ears.

He tore at his left sleeve, snarling when thorns ripped into his skin. James clawed at the fabric until the rose was completely visible and his shirt hung off his torso in ribbons. He was acutely aware of the blood dripping down his hand to the floor below, but the tears burning hot trails down his cheeks are what caught his attention.

A sob wracked through his chest. It hadn’t worked. He was still cursed, slowly turning more and more into a beast. James allowed himself to cry, allowed the tears to choke him as the adrenaline in his blood faded and allowed the pain to sweep in. It was hopeless. No one could ever possibly love him, and as his mind became more and more of a monster, he could hurt people. Dot… he could have killed Dot. Something deep inside him… the beast hiding just beneath his skin, had  _wanted_  to.

This made him cry harder and he looked around desperately. A small sound escaped his throat when he spotted it, the other ‘gift’ the enchantress had left him with. He picked the muzzle up off the floor, holding it as if it was made of glass.

“James?”

He froze at the sound of Natasha’s voice, turning slowly until he saw her in the doorway. Like Sam and Peggy, she had changed. She had taken on the form of a small carriage clock, eyes and mouth set into the face of the clock. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him quietly that he was naked except for his shredded shirt, but he pushed it away. It wasn’t important.

“I’m dangerous, Natasha…” His voice was hoarse and his throat felt like sandpaper. “I can’t hurt anyone else. I almost… I wanted to…”

She came closer, eyes on his face and never traveling anywhere but, “I heard you yelling. We all did. We want to help.”

“Did Dot leave?”

Natasha sighed, nodding, “She did.”

James nodded slightly, looking down at the muzzle, “Leave me. I want to be alone.”

“James…”

“Leave me alone, Natasha!” James rounded on her, stomach churning at the animal anger he felt bubble up.

His old friend watched him for a second longer before turning and leaving again without a word.

James swallowed down his nausea, hands shaking as he lifted the muzzle to his face. His fingers smeared blood across it as he secured it in the back. It was hard to breathe, and his inner beast bristled in panic at the restraint, but James closed his eyes against the feeling. It was for the best.

Years passed him by, the muzzle never leaving his face except to allow him to eat. After so long without real human contact, the beast came out more frequently until it just never left. James withered and cowered at the back of his own mind, watching through the eyes of an animal.

He was in the west wing, staring disdainfully at the eyes of the mostly intact painting on the wall from where he lay curled up on the floor, when he heard the main doors open. The sound of the storm outside grew to a crescendo for a moment before quieting down again as the doors fell shut. James pulled himself to his feet, pausing when he heard voices. Sam, Peggy, Natasha… and someone else. A new voice.

James growled lightly, someone was intruding on his property. Nobody ever came this far out, no one knew this place still existed. He slipped out of the safety of the west wing, muscles tense beneath his clothing. When he moved, thorns rubbed against calloused skin, making James feel a dull ache but nothing more.

His steps made no sound as he made his way down the stairs. He avoided the loose board on the third step, stopping again when he reached the polished stone floors, listening.

When he heard the voices again, James turned toward them, freezing in straight terror when he realized where they were coming from.

The door to the study was ajar, light from a fire spilling out across the floor. James was suddenly younger, thrown back to the last time he’d seen this. He watched a smaller version of himself walk confidently to the study door, pulling it open and stepping inside. He heard himself yelling at an old hag to get out of his castle, watched the light from the fire flare bright as she revealed herself as an enchantress. James heard the words of her curse echo through the halls of his castle, heard himself scream as the rose fixed itself around his arm and buried its roots in his veins.

Rage followed his initial feeling of terror, and forced him into action. His feet carried him to the doorway of the study and he pulled the door the rest of the way open.

He was almost scared into motionlessness again, when he saw blonde hair peeking out from above the armchair but he kept going. Distantly, he heard himself growling with every exhale, hands clenching into fists.

James was half aware of Natasha, Sam, and Peggy standing off to the side. The small teacup, Thor, was behind Peggy, and the footstool, DP, wedged himself under the armchair.

As he drew closer to the chair, he watched whoever was occupying it tense up, large hands gripping the sides of the chair.

James grabbed the top of the armchair with one hand, using it to steady himself as fear continued to whisper warnings in the back of his mind.

He moved to the side of the chair, crouching to be eye-level with whoever it was. He took a brief second to take in the intruder and quiet the frightened part of his own mind. Not the enchantress, but a large blond man. His arms bulged beneath his shirt and his shoulders were broad, nearly as wide as the chair. Familiarity sparked somewhere in his head at the sight of the man.

James didn’t have time to dwell on the feeling, though. Because the blond turned quickly and suddenly James was looking into eyes as blue as the sky he had long ago turned his back to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God, guys. I'm soooo sorry this took so long to get out to you. Things have been crazy lately. I've been working almost every day and I think I'm starting to get sick. Stick with me guys. I promise all the chapters are already finished. My beta reader and I just make sure to go through and edit at least a chapter a week, which is why it takes a bit.
> 
> I hope you guys continue to enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! If any of you wanna chat or have questions, feel free to contact me on tumblr! My username on there is bucky-butt

James straightened as the man jumped to his feet, and James actually staggered back a step. Even when he pulled himself to his full height, the blond still had a few inches on him. His senses went on high alert and he silently catalogued what would be his most efficient attack.

Now that he was looking at the man straight on, James could see that his clothes clung to his skin, defining the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. When he stood, jostled water droplets fell off him to the rug under his feet. The man’s wet hair was plastered to his forehead and he shivered despite the blazing fire behind him.

His jaw was strong, James noticed in the split second before the man’s mouth fell open as he looked James up and down. Fear melted out of blue eyes, replaced with what looked like curiosity.

Despite his gut screaming that something was familiar about the blond, James stamped down the feeling. It didn’t matter. James just wanted him out.

“Who are you?” He mustered up all his anger into the growl, his voice sounding strange to his own ears as it pressed up against his muzzle. “What are you doing here?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam move closer, reaching out an arm, “Master—“

“I didn’t ask you.” James rounded on him briefly, hands clenching at his sides. He’d have to have a discussion with him later about why someone was allowed to come into his castle, especially without his direct permission.

As Sam dropped his arm again, shadows shifting on the wall alerted him to movement from his unwelcome guest.

James gaze snapped back to the blond, who had taken a step back, looking like he wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and James.

“I will not ask again.”

The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, eyes giving away his weariness, “I… I’m Steve. Ah—Steve Rogers. I’m from the village nearby…I got stuck in the storm and found this castle.” When James made a small, angry noise in his throat, Steve continued quickly, “ _Your_ castle. I just wanted to get out of the storm, I swear. I didn’t want to steal anything. As soon as the storm lets up, I’ll be out of here, I promise.” With James’ intense gaze on him, Steve raised his hands to show he held nothing.

“ _You’re not welcome here. Get out. Now._ ” A thought itched at the back of his head, demanding his attention. James knew the storm was dangerous, he had heard it when he was still up in the west wing. Rain beat on the windows and wind howled around the spires of the castle. Even now, he could hear it on the other side of the closed curtains. Yes, the storm was dangerous, but it was more dangerous for anyone to be in the castle with him. The last time, with Dot, James had nearly killed her. He couldn’t risk it again.

Steve nodded quickly, eyes sliding to rest on James’ left arm.

James tensed, feeling squeamish under the gaze, “What are you staring at?!”

The blond jerked, looking back up at James, “Nothing, it’s nothing. I’ll leave.” He took one step toward the door of the study, eyes never leaving James, before thunder cracked loudly outside. A flash of lightning leaked past the edges of the curtains drawn over the windows, throwing shadows in all directions.

“Master,” Peggy spoke up this time, coming forward with a stern look on her face, “he’ll die if he goes out in that storm.”

She didn’t understand. James wasn’t sure how solid his own well-being was if Steve stayed in the castle any longer than he already had. Peggy couldn’t hear James’ heart beating against his ribs and the blood rushing in his ears. He opened his mouth to refuse again, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, but Natasha fixed him with a look.

“James. Let the boy stay, it wouldn’t hurt you to show a little hospitality.” His friend lapsed into perfect Russian as she spoke.

The comment sent a jolt through him and he stared at her in disbelief. Did she really not get it either? He responded in kind, tongue curling around the foreign vowels with ease, “This is not the time for this. He can’t stay. You know what almost happened with Dot.”

“You’re not going to hurt him. You have more control than you think. Trust me, it’ll be fine.” Natasha’s voice didn’t waver, and she never looked anything but sincere as she spoke. It made James’ willpower crumble.

James turned, needing to get away from everything. He needed time to himself, time to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. The only time he stopped was when he paused in the doorway, glancing briefly at the man still standing stock-still by the armchair. “You may stay until the storm lets up. Then I want you out of here.”

Steve nodded quickly, “Yes, sir.”

At least he’d be out soon. Hopefully James wouldn’t have to see him again. He could still feel his animal instincts trying to escape, to kill the man who had intruded on his territory.

James went straight for the stairs, all but running up the stairs until he was in the west wing and darkness closed around him like a blanket.

As soon as he was alone, safe in the confines of his room, he let himself drop into the first empty area he found, pulling a blanket close to use as a pillow. He swore he could hear the beating of his heart echo around the room and he placed a hand over his chest as he sucked in deep breaths.

“ _Fuck_.” It’d been years since he’d had another human being in the castle, and the beast hated it. It growled at the back of James’ throat and tried to claw its way to the surface. James curled up, tucking his head between his knees and wrapping his arms around the top of his head.

When he squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach lurched at the thoughts flooding his mind. _Intruder… Attack… Attack… Kill…_

James gulped and he snatched a glass cup off the nightstand and threw it as hard as he could. It smashed into glittery pieces when it collided with the opposite wall.

“James.”

Natasha’s voice made him lift his head to see her standing in the doorway, a frown tugging at her lips. She hopped up to stand on the bed next to him.

“It’s not safe, Natasha… Even now I can feel it… It doesn’t want him here, it wants to kill him.”

She touched his arm, “You’re letting this curse have too strong of a hold on you. You’re stronger than that.”

“I’ve tried to fight it! I’ve done the best I could! It’s been years, it just gets stronger and I can’t beat it.” He looked over at her desperately, “I don’t want him here because I don’t want to be responsible for anyone’s death.”

James could still feel the beast coiling in his belly, simultaneously burning and freezing as it growled and demanded release. It perked up at the thought of ripping into their guest.

He winced, clutching his head, “Stop!”

“James, please. Maybe this can help. Show him a little hospitality, some kindness.” Natasha pushed his hair back.

            James looked up at her shakily, “I can’t risk it.”

            She sighed, “Just think about it, alright? I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

            After she left, James carded his hands through his hair, blowing a long breath out. He felt too hot in his own skin, like his blood was boiling, so he pulled himself to his feet and went to the doors leading out to his balcony.

            The wind had died down but rain was still coming down in buckets, lightning flashing against the forest just beyond the castle walls. James went to the edge of the balcony, bracing his hands on the railing. The smooth stone was cold under his hands, and he sighed lightly against the feeling.

            The rain massaged his back and he let his head drop forward. His hair was soaked in a matter of seconds and it hung in wet strands around his face. It was cooler outside, and he welcomed the chill with open arms, drinking in deep breaths as he felt his heart rate slow again.

            It helped him relax, and James lost track of time. It’d been a long time since he’d been outside, and he sure as hell hadn’t left the castle walls since the curse was laid. Any time he spent outside was either on his balcony or out in the gardens.

            He truly enjoyed it outdoors, and he’d probably spend more time outside the castle if he wasn’t afraid of being spotted. If people saw him, they’d be afraid of him. The mask did that, it told people that he was dangerous. There was no place in the outside world for a _creature_ like him.

            James thought back to Steve. The blond had been afraid of him, and he was bigger than James. It was exactly what he wanted. James wanted Steve to be afraid of him, so he would leave. The moment he left, they were both safer.

            Despite this, James couldn’t help but think back on the other man. Now that he had time to himself, he took a moment to admire the memory of him. Broad shoulders and arms that looked like they were ready to tear through his sleeves. It sent a small jolt of _want_ straight up his spine, and James didn’t know who wanted Steve more: himself or the beast.

            He shook his head sharply, his mind shifting to Steve’s eyes. Yeah, they had betrayed the other man’s fear for most of their encounter, but there had been a second where he looked curious. Interested. Could he have really been intrigued by James? Not just scared? It seemed impossible but maybe… maybe it wasn’t.

            James folded his arms over the wet stone railing, resting his head on top of the cushion they made. He let his eyes drift shut as he imagined that just maybe someone wouldn’t be completely frightened by him. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the thought.

            He must have drifted off at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, the rain had stopped and the sun was starting to shine through the wisps of clouds leftover from the storm.

            James sat up straighter, groaning as his back creaked in protest. He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes and stretched, giving himself a moment to fully wake up.

            He was yanked from his peaceful moment when he heard the whine of the front gate being opened. His eyes immediately went to the iron entrance and he watched a figure walk through. James dropped to the ground, hiding himself behind one of the flower planters on the balcony. He peered around it to watch the newcomer walk up the path toward the castle.

            Panic flooded James’ veins, followed closely by adrenaline as the beast took hold. Another intruder. Too many. _Attack… Attack… Kill…_

            When he heard the oak front doors open, he launched himself to his feet and down one of the side halls. As he made his way through the shadows, he heard the intruder call, “Steve?” And then quick footsteps as Steve surely made his way from the guest room to the entry. Beneath that was the clattering sound of Sam, Peggy, and Natasha going as well.

            James’ side-route dumped him out a door at the edge of the entry, where he was hidden in inky shadow.

            The intruder was shorter than Steve, with short dark hair pushed messily back. Facial hair grew above his upper lip and dropped down to his jaw in a thin line. The hair on his chin made an almost hourglass shape, reaching back up to his lower lip. His clothes were wet and looked like they had been splashed with oil. The bags under his eyes dragged his expression down, and he held a spare cloak in one hand.

            Steve appeared at the top of the stairs, making the dark-haired man perk up, “Steve! I send you to get donuts from Pepper, and you go gallivanting off to some castle?”

            “Tony, you don’t understand. We have to leave. _Right now_.” James watched Steve take the stairs three at a time, nearly slipping toward the bottom.

            This other man, Tony, didn’t move too far inside, and Steve went to meet him. James hunched his shoulders and pressed as hard as he could back against the wall. The little voice in his mind continued to whisper: _Attack… Attack… Kill…_

            Despite Steve’s words, Tony seemed in no hurry to leave just yet, “Jesus, let a guy rest, would you? I’ve been walking around for hours, trying to find your perky little ass.”

            The phrase brought James out of it briefly, and his eyes immediately went to said ass. Steve had his back to him, and James had full view of that perfectly round, frankly delicious-looking rear. For just a brief second, he had to agree with Tony. For a second, he imagined sinking his teeth into that plump flesh rather than Tony’s neck.

            The beast growled somewhere deep within him, clawing its way back into control. James’ view flooded red and he clenched his hands tightly at his sides. _Attack…Attack…Kill…_

            “There’s no time, we have to get out of here. Before he—“

            Steve’s words cut off as he caught sight of James stepping away from the wall. His eyes widened as James’ came closer.

            James’ hands were shaking and he had tunnel vision. He was only focused on Tony and getting him the hell out of his castle.

            He lashed out with his left arm, grabbing Tony by the throat and pushing until Tony’s back was pressed against the door. He watched Tony’s eyes go as round as dinner plates and fill with alarm. Something deep inside felt pleased that he was scared. “Why are you here?” James snarled the words, fingers twitching to press into soft skin.

            The other man reached up with both hands to pull at James’ wrist, trying to relieve some of the pressure, “Just picking up Steve here. Play date’s over.”

            A switch went off in the back of James’ mind and it took a second to recognize the feeling as jealousy. He was… jealous? He had realized that Steve was good-looking early on, but he hadn’t expected to have this kind of reaction to finding out there was someone already in his life.

            The feeling made him tighten his hold on Tony’s throat, something malicious in him grinning when Tony actually choked and his mouth opened and closed desperately.

            “Stop! He didn’t do anything! He’s here to take me home!”

            The next thing James knew was the world tilted sideways at the same time that something solid ran into his side. As arms wrapped tightly around his middle and dragged him to the ground, he twisted in their grip.

            There was Steve, a light in his eyes that James hadn’t yet seen. He was floored for a fraction of a second as he stared up into blue eyes and tried to decipher what it was he saw in them. Then he closed a hand around Steve’s arm and yanked him off. James pressed a knee into the blond’s stomach, effectively pinning him, “ _Never_ touch me again.”

            Even as the words escaped his lips, a tiny part of James definitely wanted Steve to touch him again.

            The light was still there in Steve’s eyes, and James finally recognized it as defiance. “Alright! You won’t have to worry about it! We’ll leave right now!” Steve squirmed under him, in an attempt to lighten the pressure on his stomach.

            Steve was going to leave. He wasn’t ever going to come back. James actually felt possessive, and it pulled words from his lips, “ _No_. After this… this little _stunt_ , you won’t be going anywhere.”

            “What the hell, man. Get off of him!”

            James turned sharply toward the sound of Tony’s voice, having forgotten for a moment that he was even there in the first place. Of course. It was his fault Steve wanted to leave.

            Before he could take care of the nuisance, James felt a large hand wrap around his left arm. He felt the give of the hand as one of the thorns sank into the flesh and it sent a jolt of ice up his arm. Nobody had ever touched the arm, James had made sure of it. The feeling made him whip back toward Steve with a snarl.

            “Leave him out of it. I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever you want. But Tony hasn’t done anything. He only came here looking for me, nothing more. He doesn’t want to steal from you or anything. Let him go, and I won’t try to escape.”

            From somewhere behind him, James could hear Tony protest, but he stayed focused on Steve. He searched his eyes for any sign of a lie, for any sign that he shouldn’t trust him, but only earnest eyes looked back up at him. He pulled his knee away from Steve’s stomach and slowly pulled himself to his feet. James tried to think of what would make Steve even want to offer that kind of deal, but was only met with confusion. “You would do that? Give up your own freedom for him?”

            Steve nodded, holding James’ gaze evenly.

            “…Very well. You will stay and serve me in my castle. You will not be permitted to leave the grounds under any circumstances. But _he_ must leave.” James’ eyes slid to Tony for a brief second before going back to Steve, checking if he understood.

            The blond sat up, one arm wrapped around his stomach. James watched him glance down at his hand, no doubt finding blood there where the rose had stabbed him. When he looked up again, his leveled a glare at James, “Fine. Deal.”

            “Steve. What the hell.”

            “Just go, Tony.” Steve stumbled up to his feet, looking over at his friend.

            He looked sad, but not even a flicker of regret passed over his features. James’ still felt dumbfounded by this.

            But he pushed himself into action when all Tony did was stand there and look between Steve and James. “Get out!” He snapped, grabbing the back of Tony’s shirt and dragging him to the door.

            James couldn’t see his face, but Tony’s voice sounded desperate when he addressed Steve, “I’ll figure something out.”

            James would like to see him try. He threw Tony out, barely getting a glimpse of the man picking himself up off the cobblestones before the doors fell heavily shut.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise guys! Two chapters in one day to make up for my lack of posting for two weeks!

            He took a few moments to himself, breathing heavily, before turning back to Steve. James felt his muscles twitching beneath his skin, the beast dragging his eyes to the vein pulsing in Steve’s neck.

            James could feel want coursing through him, urging him to sink his teeth into that neck, so he did his best to compose himself. “You will use the same room as last night.” The words were forced out between clenched teeth, and he spoke quickly. “You are allowed anywhere in the castle, _except_ the West Wing. You are never to go there.” Almost as an afterthought, James added, “Tonight, you will eat with me. I expect you in the dining room at six, sharp.” Really? Did James really just order him to have dinner with him? He used to be smoother than this, he was sure. “The other servants will show you your duties and show you the rest of the castle.” Before he could be any more stupid, James turned and retreaded back to the shadows and up to the West Wing.

            He muttered to himself all the way up the steps, “You’re such an idiot. What happened to all your charm, Barnes? Trip and drop it off the balcony? Tear it to shreds when you were destroying your paintings? Fuck.”

            James didn’t curl up beneath the sheets of his bed to hide from the world, though he really wanted to. It’d been too many years since he’d actually used his bed. It felt like a luxury meant only for humans. He felt undeserving of the plush mattress and fluffy down comforter, and if he was honest with himself, he was so exhausted that he usually just slept wherever he dropped.

Instead of his bed, he went to his closet, yanking the doors open with more force than necessary. He scanned the clothes, scowling. He couldn’t just wear his usual clothes, no. He wanted to impress, wanted to wow like he used to. James’ eyes fell upon the blue and gold suit at the back of his closet, but he shut the doors again quickly when he heard movement in the doorway.

            “What do you want, Natasha?” James didn’t even have to turn around to know the familiar sound of his companion. He put his forehead against the cool wood door, closing his eyes.

            Natasha came closer as she spoke, “Have you considered the idea that he might be the one?”

            “The one what?” The question wasn’t necessary; James knew exactly what she was talking about. He was just hoping that she would leave it alone.

            “Don’t play dumb, James. The one we’ve been waiting for. Steve could break the spell.”

            James turned to look at her, “Natasha, that’s impossible.”

            She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms, “You’re so quick to dismiss this. You have a chance.”

            “Have you seen him? I don’t have a chance _at all_. I have zero chance at fixing this, Nat.” James shook his head, leaning back against the closet door. His hands still shook from his leftover rage and he tucked them up under his armpits, looking away.

            “You certainly fucked up your first few interactions with him, but you can still make up for it.”

            James eyed her, confused, “I invited him to dinner.” He knew that was a lie.

            “No. You yelled at him that he’s supposed to have dinner with you. Far from an invitation. What happened to your manners?”

            “Guess they disappeared with the rest of my humanity.” James muttered bitterly.

            The little carriage clock shook her head, fixing James with a glare. “If you want a better life, you’re going to have to make an effort. The rest of us can only do so much. I see the way you look at Steve; if you let yourself, you’ll fall in love with him. It might take time. But if you’re going to have any chance, you’ll have to be nice. You’ll have to get him to love you, too.”

            “You know what happened last time—“

            “Last time was a lie. You didn’t actually love Dot.”

            James dropped his gaze to the floor, frowning. He knew where Natasha was going with this, and it sent a little shiver of fear up his spine.

            “If I didn’t think you were able to do this, I wouldn’t push you. Now come on. Wash yourself up. You need to actually impress Steve before he falls completely for you.” Natasha gave him a pointed look before taking her leave.

            James sighed, going to his washroom. The muzzle was heavy in his hands as he undid the clasp in the back and pulled it away from his mouth. He set it carefully to the side of the sink.

He splashed water over his face and scrubbed at his skin. His stubble scratched over his fingers and he frowned. He’d have to shave, but first James had to find a razor. Then he realized it was pointless anyway, and ran his hands through his hair a bit to smooth it back. A brief glance into the shattered mirror above the sink showed him enough for him to know that trying to really clean up on his own was useless. He growled lightly in frustration, dragging his hands through his hair a few more times before giving up.

The mask went back on, pressing snugly against his skin. He secured it behind his head and made his way downstairs.

            He looked toward the East Wing as he passed the landing, straining to hear anything. James could just faintly hear Steve’s deep voice and Clint’s response, and he was itching to come closer and listen in. But Natasha called him from the doorway to the dining room, giving him a stern look as if she knew exactly what he was considering.

            James followed her to the dining room, where Natasha joined Sam and Peggy up on the mantle of the fireplace.

            “Tasha’s got a point, man.” The candlestick watched him, a frown etched into his wax face. “You’ve got to consider the fact that Steve might be the one to break the spell.”

            “Of course I’ve considered it!” James scowled, looking away. “I’m not a fool.”

            “Great! Then you fall in love with him, he falls in love with you, and poof! We could be human again by midnight!”

            Peggy shot Sam a stern look, “It takes more than that, Sam. These things take time.”

            Natasha nodded, looking over at James for a second before jumping down from the mantle. She went to the door, throwing over her shoulder, “I’m going to go get ‘tall, blonde, and handsome’ from his room. Be ready for dinner by the time I come down.”

            After Natasha slipped out of the room, James sighed. “What’s the use?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. “He’s… gorgeous. And I’m… all of this.” He gestured vaguely at his whole body, focusing primarily on his left arm.

            “He’s got a point,” Sam’s jibe was good-natured, James knew. It didn’t stop him from glaring, though. Sam shrugged, glancing at Peggy as she spoke.

            “You have to get him to see past all that.”

            “I don’t know _how_.” It’d been so long since James had had to woo someone. He hadn’t interacted with people in general outside of his staff in years. His confidence had left him ages ago, and James no longer believed he had what it took to get someone to love him.

            Peggy lifted her chin, “Well, you can start by making yourself more presentable. Straighten up, and _try_ to act more like a gentleman.”

            As James obediently straightened his back and composed his expression, Sam grinned, adding in, “Aw yeah, man. And when he comes in, give him a dashing, debonair smile. Come on, show me that signature smile.”

            James stared at him pointedly for a second before it dawned on Sam.

“Oh… yeah… um.”

            “Don’t frighten him,” Peggy came to the rescue.

            “Impress him with your wit,” Sam added, recovering.

            “But be gentle.”

            “Shower him with compliments.”

            “But be sincere.”

            “And above all…”

            “You must control your temper.” This part was said by both the teapot and the candlestick, as they each gave James their own stern looks.

            James jerked when the door creaked open, turning quickly and trying to calm his suddenly racing heart.

            But it wasn’t Steve who came inside, looking sheepish and maybe a bit worried. It was Natasha, a frown pulling at her features as she cast James an apologetic look.

            “Where is he?” Disappointment gave a sharp tug on James’ heart, and he could practically feel himself deflate. The feeling was quickly replaced by a rising anger from the beast, blood starting to boil as it traveled through his system. His heartbeat started to _shush, shush, shush_ in his ears and his fingers twitched as he tried to resist clenching his fists.

            Natasha sighed, “He’s not coming.”

            “We’ll see about that.” James’ vision clouded in anger, but he could feel his feet propelling him out the door and to the stairs. He took them two or three at a time, he really lost track, and he could distantly hear the clattering of Natasha and Sam following close behind. Sam was yelling at him but James couldn’t make out the words.

            The door was shut when he reached Steve’s room. James managed to ‘knock’ only three times, fist connecting with the door so hard that it sent reverberations up his arm. On his third knock, the door came crashing down into Steve’s room. James watched the dust float up from the wood’s impact with the floor, eyes widening.

            He really just broke down the door… He pounded on the door so hard that it actually broke. James wanted to curl in on himself in embarrassment, shifting sheepishly. But when he raised his eyes to look at Steve, who was sitting on his bed with a look of shock marring his features, James remembered why he was angry.

            James stepped carefully around the door, moving into the room, “I thought you were coming down for dinner.”

            Steve crossed his arms over his chest, and James’ watched his jaw tick in anger as Steve turned his head away, “I’m not hungry.”

            James pulled himself up to a larger height, sucking in a breath to yell again, but Sam beat him to it.

            “Sir…” Sam looked up at him desperately from his spot at his heels. “You need to try to ask nicely.”

            James, breathing hard, clenched his jaw and relaxed it again, trying to calm down. After a second, he looked back to Steve, forcing through clenched teeth, “Will you come down to dinner?”

            “No.”

            James turned back to Sam, motioning in Steve’s direction in annoyance. It took all his self-control not to blurt out ‘see?’ as if he was an angry toddler. Frustration ate at him, and he shifted restlessly from foot to foot. The beast paced back and forth in his head, snapping its jaws in a demand for attention.

            Natasha spoke up this time, “ _Gently._ ”

            So, James tried again, pausing between words to keep his voice under control, “It… would give me great pleasure… if you were to join me for dinner.”

            Sam coughed at his feet, nudging his ankle with an elbow pointedly, “ _please_.”

            James narrowed his eyes down at the candlestick before adding on, “please.”

            “No, thank you.” Steve looked back at James with the words, looking him right in the eye.

            James jerked back at the sudden eye contact, annoyance surging through him. He was done with manners. “Then _STARVE_!” He turned on his heel, stomping around the door to leave. On his way out, James turned back to Sam. “If he doesn’t eat with me, he doesn’t eat _at all_.” He knew it was childish and unfair, but he also knew deep down that Sam wouldn’t listen to him in the first place. Steve would get fed, especially if Peggy had any say in the matter.

            “Sir, please. Try to be rational.” Sam followed him out of the room, quickly falling behind as James quickened his face.

            Before he reached the stairs, James heard Steve’s voice echo down the hallway, “Fucking thanks for breaking my door down!”

            James stormed to the West Wing, growling under his breath, “I try to ask nicely, but he refuses. What does he want me to do? Beg?” He dug through a dresser until he found the little hand mirror. He pulled it close and demanded, “Show me Steve.”

            The glass surface rippled and in a second, James was looking down at Steve, looking disdainfully at the door to his room, now propped up against the wall. He watched Clint lean against the bed, dragging the mattress down in one corner, and heard him say “I know he can come off as an asshole. But… maybe if you got to know him…”

            “I don’t _want_ to get to know him! I don’t want anything to do with him!” Steve’s words sent daggers through James’ heart, making him crumple a bit and sink heavily to the floor. James put the mirror down on top of the dresser, face down and hoping not to hear anymore.

“I’m just fooling myself. He’ll never see me as anything but a monster.” James hung his head, fingers tangling in the bed sheet. “It’s hopeless.”

            As he shifted, the thorns of the rose dragged against his scarred skin, making him hiss lightly in pain. He’d grown used to getting poked and cut by the sharp thorns but some days they dug new holes and he was thrown back to square one.

            Bucky unbuttoned his shirt and peeled the fabric away from the rose and thorns. Just as he’d thought, fresh wounds had opened up and blood dripped from his arm. He reached up and brushed his fingers over the silky red petals of the rose itself, flinching when a single petal broke loose and floated to the floor.

            How long did this have to go on? James made one careless wrong decision, and the witch had left him in this state. Nowadays, he was just an object of revulsion and derision, his days filled with hatred. As time passed him by, he had realized there was no one who could show him how to win the world’s forgiveness.

            But Steve… Steve could be the one. Had James really expected this terribly stubborn man to really join him for dinner just because he had ordered him to? Well… kind of. Deep down, he was sure that he knew Steve would never accept, part of him had hoped though. This had just proved that he needed to try harder, to change the way he acted.

            “What did they say? Shower him with compliments… impress him with our wit… act like a gentleman. Act like a gentleman! Like a gentle… man…” That was it! James had to act more like the man he used to be. The man that he still was, he had to remind himself. He blew out a breath, adjusted his shirt, and made his way downstairs to the kitchens.

            The kitchen was empty and quiet, though food was still set up for the dinner that never happened. James found a plate in one of the cabinets and tried to pick the best pieces of steak and the brightest vegetables. He carefully chose the nicest looking dessert pastry, and then set off for Steve’s bedroom. All the while, he kept muttering to himself, “act like a gentleman… act like a gentleman… act like a _man_ …”

            James had barely made it up the stairs when he heard voices, making him dart back into the shadows. He watched Sam lead Steve from the dining room, where they ran into Natasha and started talking.

            James wanted to call out to them, to give Steve the plate of food he’d gathered just for him, but fear trapped the words in his throat. So instead he turned and disappeared back to the West Wing, keeping to the shadows so as to not draw attention. James pushed into his room, abandoning the plate of food on a table. “I’m nothing but a fool,” he mumbled to himself.

            He stared fixedly at the floor, listening to the quiet creaks and groans of the castle around him. The walls had been so empty since his parents had died when he was very young, and sounds echoed through the halls without interruption. Even before their death, though, the castle had been too big, too lonely for a young James.

            With his parents always away on business, James had grown up at the hand of the staff more often than his own flesh and blood kin. From a young age, he had wondered what it was to be loved. The older he’d gotten, the harder it had been for him to understand how love could even exist, if the people who were supposed to love him always left him alone.

            Their death had been untimely, and people pitied him. They would apologize for his loss, as if they were the ones who had caused it. James, however, hadn’t really grieved for his parents. He never knew them, if he was completely honest with himself. He didn’t understand how you could miss something you never truly had. So, the death of his parents hadn’t left the gaping hole it should have, because the hole had been there since he was a toddler. James still felt oddly detached from his family, as if they weren’t even his family to begin with, just some strangers he happened to share a name with.

            James chose a spot on the floor among shredded pillows, staring at the ceiling above and taking deep breaths until his heartrate slowed and he felt calmer. He could understand Steve not wanting anything to do with him, even if the words stung like hell. Not even his own family wanted anything to do with him, so why would Steve?

            He swallowed hard, closing his eyes and trying to push away the picture of Steve’s face as his mind pieced it together. James listened to the castle for a while, trying to relax his body enough to take a nap and get some rest.

            When he decided that just wasn’t in the stars for him today, he rolled back onto his feet. He opened the door to the balcony, letting cool air sweep into the room.

            James reached a hand behind his head, fingers closing around the neckline of his shirt. He pulled the fabric off, skin burning underneath. The cool air felt nice on his too-warm skin, and he let a sigh escape his lips.

            He didn’t get very long to relish in the nice breeze making its way inside, because then he heard a voice behind him. It was barely louder than a whisper, but it was unmistakably Steve’s. “Oh shit.”

            James whipped around to face the blond, suddenly extremely self-conscious as he realized the rose was in full view. ‘Oh shit’ indeed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooooooo sorry this is so late!!! Between work and me being away on vacation, I didn't have time to edit and upload! Here's a surprise though: I have three chapters for you guys this week to make up for it!! I hope you all continue to enjoy the story. As always, feel free to come chat with me on tumblr (bucky-butt).

            Fear and shock flooded his system first, and he twisted his body so that the rose was further out of view. Rage quickly followed the insecurity, making him tense up and the beast inside purr in pleasure.

            “Why did you come here?” James’ voice sounded foreign even to his own ears, more a growl than actual words.

            Steve moved behind a table, putting it between them as if it would stop James from getting close, “I… I’m sorry… I just—“

            “I told you never to come here!” James advanced on him, grabbing the table and flinging it aside. He needed Steve out of here, needed him to get as far from James as possible. If not, he didn’t know what would become of the blonde. Already he could feel the beast pacing restlessly, licking its chops as it demanded blood.

            Steve almost fell as he tried to get to the door as fast as his legs could carry him. The floor was covered in debris though, making it hard to navigate without looking. “I didn’t mean any harm, really—“

            James really did believe that. It was easy to tell that Steve wasn’t the type to actively seek to hurt, his curiosity just got the best of him. Even so, it was more for Steve’s safety that he yelled, “GET OUT.”

            And Steve did. He turned tail and ran, James watching with heaving breaths as he almost tripped over a fallen chair.

            James didn’t move, only pulling his shirt and cloak back on to cover the rose. His toes curled and his jaw clenched as he listened to Steve running down the steps. He wanted to call after him, to tell him he was sorry, that he didn’t mean to frighten him. Steve wouldn’t understand… there was so little left of James… so little left… An actual _roar_ escaped him and he swayed on his feet from the sudden onslaught from the beast. _Blood, blood, chase, kill…_ James cried out against the instincts, hands flying up to cover his ears. _No, no, no, I don’t want this…_ He argued desperately, choking on a sob that bubbled up at the effort of pushing the animal back into its cage.

            If the beast won, if James followed Steve, he would kill him. He knew nothing good could come out of him following the blonde. James couldn’t have that blood on his hands, he couldn’t. He’d nearly killed Dot, and that had been when he still had decent control over himself. Now, though…

            The beast clawed its way to the forefront of his mind, until his eyes flew open and his legs moved of their own accord. He grabbed two of his knives from a drawer, flexing his fingers around the handles. His feet carried him down the steps and out the door, eyes searching wildly for any trace of Steve. Another roar tore from his throat when he saw footprints sunken into the fresh snow. Trees had blocked out most of the storm, so virtually no snow had made it to the  ground. A smooth frost covered the frozen ground instead.

            He stopped, listening. Just as James’ heart started to wilt, believing Steve to be gone and his only chance ruined, the beast perked up. He held his breath and waited, listening with rapt attention. Steve yelled again in the distance, triumph surging through James. He’d found his prize. Then he realized that Steve’s cries were punctuated by growls and howls, and James snarled in response. Challengers.

            James started moving again, weaving through the trees and ignoring the reverberations running up his legs as he stomped over the hard dirt underneath the layer of frost. He followed the sounds of the fight to a clearing and his eyes fell to Steve first.

            The blonde was sprawled in the frost, chest heaving and mouth hanging open, surrounded by a pack of wolves. One of the wolves jumped away from his feet as he kicked at it. Another three closed in around him, lolling tongues licking over their chops.

            It was like a switch in James was flipped. His rage shifted from Steve to the wolves and he felt a sudden urge to _protect_. One glance at Steve, struggling and wheezing and barely conscious, and suddenly James wanted nothing more than to keep him safe.

            Snarling, he put himself between the wolves and Steve. The textured handles of his knives dug into his palms as he tightened his grip, eyes flying from one wolf to the next.

            The animals seemed confused for a brief second, surprised by James’ sudden appearance. Their fur bristled and they pulled their lips up away from their teeth. He watched saliva drip from their lips, and then they were upon him.

            Teeth and claws tore at his clothes, jaws snapped at his ankles. James lashed out, the sharp steel of his knives aiming for flesh hides. The wolves tried to get around him to Steve, to the easier target, but he wouldn’t let them anywhere near him. Blood pounded in his ears and the beast demanded him to _attack, kill, protect…_

            In the background, James could still hear Steve’s breath rattling in his lungs. When he coughed, it drew James’ attention, drawing his eyes down and away from the wolves. A mistake.

            Pain burst behind his eyes as claws connected with his arm and tore his skin, blood immediately welling from the wound. James turned in a blind fury and buried his knife in the wolf’s side.

The resulting yelp and whine made the wolves back up, still growling. They decided this meal was too difficult and turned tail, disappearing back into the woods.

James’ chest heaved with each breath, the cold pressing against his lungs. He still felt angry, still felt possessive. A wheeze from the man behind him made him move, turning in time to see Steve’s eyes fall shut.

Panic seized him and James fell to his knees, shaking hand reaching out toward Steve. He jerked it back when he saw Steve’s chest rise and fall. His breathing was still uneven and James could still hear the rasp in his lungs, but he was alive. For how long, though, he had no idea.

James started to struggle to his feet, knowing he had to get Steve back to the castle, where it was warm and safe. He fell again though, legs giving out as his muscles trembled with the effort. The lacerations on his arm stung and burned, the blood dripping to the ground beneath him. Adrenaline was slowly making its way out of his system, and the pain was settling in its place.

He doesn’t remember losing consciousness.

Trapped in his own mind, it was too dark, almost suffocating, and James hated it. His ears rang in the total silence and his eyes didn’t even begin to pierce the intense black. James was about ready to claw at the edges of his mind, when something brushed against the muzzle, shooting ice into his veins. The idea of freezing scared him, fingers and toes numb as the ice took hold. He didn’t want to freeze to death, it was slow and it made his lungs burn, so he pushed back with fire.

Even when his eyes opened, everything was blurry. James relied solely on instinct to defend himself against whoever wanted to release the beast. His hands wrapped around a throat, the Adam’s apple pressing against the taut skin between his thumb and forefinger, and he pushed until he was pressing the man up against a wall, a growl trapped in his throat. James felt hands wrap around his wrist, pressing but not digging fingers into the sensitive skin. Instead, it almost grounded him, and his vision started to clear. Blue orbs swam into sight and he watched as they slowly sharpened until he realized they were eyes. Eyes that were such an intense blue, but if James focused he could see streaks of green in them, and it made him stop and just stare.

When he finally realized it was Steve that he had pressed up against the wall with a hand at his neck, James was shaking. Steve had tried to take the mask off. If he hadn’t been stopped… the beast would have killed him.

“James. It’s just me. It’s Steve.” The deep voice was soothing, and James felt the blond squeeze his wrists in what he was sure was meant to be a comforting gesture. The feeling of it made him loosen his grip a bit.

“I won’t touch the mask. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” Steve was… sorry? James was sure he misheard. There was such an earnest look on Steve’s face that it actually broke James, his heart hammering in his chest for a reason far scarier to him than anger. After all that he’d done to Steve, the big dumb blond was still worried about him.

James blinked in quick succession, pulling his hand away from Steve’s throat as if the skin-on-skin contact burned him and he stumbled backward until he collapsed into his chair. He hung his head in shame, refusing to meet Steve’s eyes.

Steve didn’t move for a few moments, and James could feel those blue eyes boring into him but he didn’t acknowledge the feeling. He watched Steve’s feet behind a curtain of hair as he stepped closer until he was kneeling to James’ right, holding a towel and a bowl of water.

“I’m going to clean the cuts on your arm, alright?” Steve’s voice was quiet and James tucked his chin closer to his chest.

James was completely prepared to stay silent and just drown himself further in shame, but the wet towel pressed against the gashes in his skin, sending bursts of pain up his arm. He snarled, tearing his arm away and pulling it in close to his chest, “That _hurts_!”

“It wouldn’t hurt if you just held still!” Steve actually yelled back, to James’ surprise.

James couldn’t remember the last time he was yelled at like that. He’d grown so used to getting his way and no one ever arguing with him, so this was completely new to him. He blinked at Steve before gathering himself, “This wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you hadn’t run away!”

“If you hadn’t scared me, I wouldn’t have run away!”

This stumped James, he had no idea how to react. He knew Steve was probably right, and he was ashamed that he had snapped at Steve the way he did. But he also knew that if he hadn’t made Steve leave, hadn’t pushed him away, the beast would have used James’ own hands to kill Steve; and that he couldn’t live with.

James straightened a bit when he found a counter argument, “Well, you shouldn’t have been in the West Wing.” _Ha!_ He felt triumphant, like he had the best point and Steve wouldn’t be able to come up with a response.

Which was why he was shocked when Steve fired back almost instantly with “ _You_ should learn to control your temper.”

James deflated, slumping back into his chair and looking away from Steve. Shame curled again in his belly and he swallowed hard. He only raised his eyes again when Steve’s fingers closed around his wrist again.

“This’ll sting a little.”

The warning helped, and James only flinched a little at the sharp sting of the cloth against his open wounds. Steve paused for a beat, fingers stilling before going back to work.

“… Thank you. For saving my life.”

James blinked owlishly, eyes on Steve’s face. He watched as Steve continued to clean his arm, each touch gentle and slow, calculated as he focused on his task. Warmth spread through him, a feeling he slowly recognized as gratitude and he soaked in the heat of it like he was freezing. His response came later than it should have, the words foreign on his lips, “You’re welcome.”

The smile that graced Steve’s lips made James’ heart pound in his chest and he couldn’t help but stare. Luckily, Steve kept his focus on bandaging James’ arm so he didn’t seem to notice. James watched deft fingers secure bandages to his arm and carefully smooth the end to stick to the rest. The tickle of Steve’s fingers against the inside of his arm sent a small jolt up James’ spine and he repressed the urge to shiver.

It was with a sinking feeling that James realized Steve was hurt, too. Steve finished with James and proceeded to clean the freshly reopened gash in his palm, as well as several small puncture marks along his collarbone and by his neck. James sucked in a breath when it dawned on him that the marks were from Steve carrying him home.

The thudding of his heart against his ribs stopped as quickly as it had started, guilt crashing down on James.

“You got hurt?”

Steve raised his head, blinking up at James. He waved the comment off, smiling that gentle smile that was slowly turning James to goo, “It’s nothing… Yours was way worse.”

 _I still hurt you_ , James kept the words to himself. He was afraid to remind Steve of this, afraid that Steve would realize his mistake in returning and flee the castle again. James didn’t want to go back into isolation, so he stayed quiet, choosing instead to observe Steve.

It was fascinating, really, how open and caring Steve was still being despite everything James had done to him. It made him feel warm inside.

Steve cleaned up the towels and bowl they used before announcing that he was going to go to bed.

James blinked at him slowly, the words registering sluggishly in his mind. Steve was… staying. He nodded dumbly, staring.

Steve smiled at him, eyes almost fond, before heading for the stairs.

“He’s never looked at me that way before…” James breathed as soon as the shape of broad shoulders and a tiny waist had disappeared upstairs.

Natasha grinned from where she was perched on the mantle, having stayed silent during the whole ordeal. “I’m proud of you.”

The words made the backs of his eyes sting and he looked up at her as his heart swelled. Maybe this could actually work out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your second chapter for this week!

The following weeks found James in Steve’s company more often than not. The first few days James was on edge, the beast pacing at the forefront of his mind as it decided just what to do with Steve. Eventually, James managed to stamp it down, forcing it to the back of his mind where it sat idly and watched.

He learned that Steve liked to sit in the rose gardens and sketch, that he enjoyed breathing in the fresh air when the weather was nice. Steve told him it was because of how badly his asthma had been when he was younger. It didn’t crop up as much now, but he still had his moments, like in the forest. Now, he took in every breath like it may be his last, taking in as much as his lungs would allow, because he’d never known how it felt to take such pure breaths.

Winter closed in sooner than they anticipated, and a heavy storm came in. The accompanying snow had brought along with it a hush that fell over the castle, making the air feel almost magical. James had carefully cleared the snow from a balcony, so he could watch Steve roam the grounds. Sam and Natasha often joined him on the balcony, talking quietly amongst themselves as James’ eyes stayed glued to Steve.

Steve left large prints in the snow as he walked along one of the trails. DP left his own snake trail through the snow as he chased Peter through the bushes.

Peter had taken on his Aunt May’s job after she passed away after many years of service. He was bright, very mature for his age, but it was nice to see whenever he gave in to his inner child, and DP was very good at getting him to do just that.

DP launched himself at Peter once he was close enough to the feather duster, and he managed to send them both rolling into a snow bank.

Steve burst out laughing, head thrown back. It was the most beautiful thing James had ever seen, and it made a smile tug at the corner of his lips.

This little punk had just shown up on his doorstep out of the blue, and already had full claim of James’ heart. James wanted to give his everything to Steve, his heart and soul, but he wasn’t even positive he had a heart to give to Steve.

James’ eyes dragged away from Steve, wandering down to the bandages wrapped tightly around his arm. Steve had been so gentle with him, even after James had nearly lost control and killed him (though Steve didn’t know about that). He had been so cruel to the man when he first showed up, yet Steve had still showed him kindness he didn’t deserve. James was so baffled by this, as well as by the odd thump of his heart against his ribcage whenever he thought about Steve.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before…” James knew his words immediately captured the attention of his companions, so he continued on, “I want to do something for him.” The idea excited him, his mind piecing together what Steve’s face might look like if James succeeded in getting something that made him happy. He pictured the way a grin might expand slowly across Steve’s face until it reached his eyes, eyes that would light up in delight.

Then when he tried to figure out what could make Steve look like that, he came up empty. James frowned, turning toward his friends, “But what?”

“Well, there’s the usual things: flowers, chocolates, promises you don’t intend to keep…” Natasha listed off the items idly, raising an eyebrow. James huffed at her in response.

Sam elbowed her, making a face, “Don’t be so cynical. James, it has to be something truly special, something that’ll capture his interest…” Sam’s face lit up as if he’d lit the wick atop his head, “Wait a minute! The library!”

James stared at him dumbly, “The… library?”

It’d been a long time since he’d last set foot in the library. After the beast had taken over most of Bucky’s mind, he’d only get a few days a month where he’d feel almost like his old self again. On those days, he would wander down to the library on unsure legs and pick a random book from the shelf. There were nooks and crannies throughout the entire library where he would tuck himself away and try to remember how to read. He liked the way books smelled and the way the paper creaked under his hands when he flipped the pages. Bucky would even run his fingers over the words in vain hope that he might actually understand them and get just a taste of what it would be like to be wholly human again. The more years that passed, the less often he escaped to the library, until it got to the point where he never went.

“Yeah, yeah! Steve likes books, he had wanted to see the library before he decided to take a quick detour to the West Wing—“ It was Natasha’s turn to elbow Sam sharply. He coughed, rushing on, “The point is: he’ll love it. I’m sure of it.”

James anxiously rolled his lower lip between his teeth, “You’re sure?”

When Sam nodded encouragingly, James let out a shaky breath. He looked back towards Steve, who was watching DP and Peter fondly. He was struck with a sudden urge for Steve to look at _him_ that way, and it gave him a burst of confidence.

He leaned over the balcony, waving his arm as a smile spread across his lips. It occurred to him too late that Steve wouldn’t see the friendly expression, due to the mask. Steve would like the library, and James wanted to give him anything that would make him happy.

Steve looked up once he noticed his frantic motions, raising an eyebrow in question. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, his fingers tucked tightly against his sides against the cold air.

James’ smile widened until he was sure Steve could at least see it in his eyes, and he beckoned for Steve to come indoors. Once Steve nodded, turning briefly toward DP and Peter, James turned and went to meet him inside. On his way to the grand staircase, nerves suddenly twisted his stomach. He’d never requested Steve’s company, not since that first night when he tried to force Steve to have dinner with him. James had learned his lesson, but it had prevented him from attempting to ask for Steve’s company at all, for fear of rejection.

Asking Steve to come in now, James hadn’t even thought twice. He had been so in the moment, so confident that Steve would enjoy the library and maybe like James better for showing it to him, that all rational thought had been swept from his mind. What if Steve didn’t like it? What if he thought it was too boring? Maybe James should have spent more time brainstorming with Sam and Natasha before just up and agreeing that this was the best course of action. Maybe he could just disappear back up into the West Wing and pretend this hadn’t happened, before Steve made it inside—

“James?”

He jerked sharply at Steve’s voice, turning. He blanched, stumbling over his words, “I, ah… Steve…” James cleared his throat, looking down at the floor and shuffling his feet, “There’s something I want to show you.”

James twisted his hands together as he led Steve down the hall to the library. His palms felt sweaty and he had to remind himself to keep breathing.

Even before he had been transformed, he would sometimes come down to the library after dark when everyone else was asleep. The large room was quiet and had a large fireplace. The furniture was comfortable and James enjoyed admiring the architecture in the silence of night. He distantly remembered being extremely young, and his mother reading him stories as they huddled together on one of the plush couches. He didn’t remember why they ever stopped.

James started to pull the heavy door to the library open, but he barely got it open an inch before he slammed it shut again, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. He bit his lip, turning back toward Steve, “First… you have to close your eyes.” That was a ridiculous request. Who’s to say Steve will trust him enough to shut his eyes when he and James are alone together. How could he be so stupid?

But Steve didn’t run. Instead, he tilted his head and the ghost of a smile passed over his lips as he raised one eyebrow in question. James’ heart did a flip.

“It’s a surprise,” he insisted, holding his gaze earnestly. To his relief, Steve let his eyes fall shut.

James beamed, opening the doors wide and taking a second to look inside for the first time in years. Peter had kept the place clean, and not even a thin layer of dust covered anything. Wooden tables gleamed in the soft light from the burning fireplace. James made a mental note to thank the young man later.

After just a moment of hesitation, James took Steve's hands in his, leading him inside. His heart hammered in his chest when Steve's fingers curled around James' ever so slightly, holding onto him.

"Can I open them yet?"

James shook his head, before remembering Steve couldn't see him, "No, no, no, not yet! Wait here." He reluctantly released his hands, fingers sliding over Steve’s. Hurriedly, he went to the windows, pulling the curtains to the sides of the glass and allowing light to stream inside. It was the first time he'd actually opened up any type of window in a long time.

Pleased with the way the room looked, James turned to Steve. He tingled in anticipation for Steve to see, for Steve to approve. "Alright, now."

The sunlight from the window hit Steve's eyes the moment they were open, turning them such a striking blue that James' breath caught in his throat. He watched awe fill Steve's expression, mouth falling open slightly as he turned on the spot to take everything in. His eyes traveled over the towering bookshelves and up the spiral staircases on either side of the library, then up the smaller ladders that climbed each row of shelves.

"I've never seen so many books in all my life." The words were barely a whisper, pushing past the shock evident on Steve's face. James wasn't even sure if he meant to say it aloud.

"Do you like it?" James didn't realize his hands were twitching, eyes locked on Steve's face. He wanted him to like it, wanted Steve to love it. He wanted to know that he was the one who had brought so much happiness and joy to that ever-deserving heart.

Steve turned to him again finally, the brightest smile James had ever seen painted across his lips and reaching all the way up to those gorgeous eyes. "I love it!"

James felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders and his covered smile came easily, "Then it's yours!"

Steve turned to roam his eyes over the room full of books, "This whole library... is mine? James... thank you. I can't say that enough, this is amazing. Thank you so much."

Hearing Steve call him James made something in his stomach churn. He associated the name with such a dark part of himself, a part that was all royalty and no heart, that it made him want no part of it.

"Please... Call me Bucky."

He hadn't gone by Bucky since before he can remember. His mother used to call him that affectionately, and then Peter's Aunt May used to call him that too. No one else had in years. It made him feel lighter, to finally go back to the gentler name, the more personal one.

Steve blinked at him, "Bucky?"

Bucky cast his eyes down, shuffling his feet and tucking his hands into his pockets as he nodded. He didn’t look up again until he heard a quiet, fond huff, and then Steve speaking.

"Alright. Bucky."

He raised his head, surprise washing over him as he processed how easy that was. He'd never asked for something like that, and he was sure Steve wouldn't want to change after he already knew him as James. The tension left his shoulders and he slouched a bit from it, smiling beneath the mask.

He watched Steve sink his teeth into his lower lip before running a hand through his hair, mussing it up, "I'm going to go… explore."

Bucky nodded immediately and watched Steve go to one of the staircases. He himself went to the fire, folding himself into one of the cushy armchairs in front of it. He folded his arms over the back of it, resting his chin on his arms as he lazily watched Steve travel along the bookshelves. Bucky watched him trail his fingers over each of their spines, his head tilted to the side as he read their titles.

This was how they spent the next few days. Bucky would leave his room each morning to find Steve roaming the library. He would curl up in his arm chair and just listen to the soft sounds of Steve’s exploration.

Every once and awhile, Steve would come by and set a book on the table next to Bucky, so there were a few growing stacks near him. Once he was pleased with his selections, he would sit in the other arm chair and read silently next to Bucky. At least, until he noticed Bucky watching him and he began to read aloud. It was Bucky’s favorite part of the day.

One day, he came closer with a book like normal and when he was closer to where Bucky was sitting, he suggested, with his head buried in a book, "I, uh… Maybe we could try to have dinner again? If you want to, I mean."

Bucky lifted his head, trying not to get too excited just yet and failing miserably, "Oh?"

"Yeah… I mean, I eat downstairs and talk with Sam and Peggy and them. But... you never come down. It's your castle. I don't want to keep you from eating in your own dining room." Steve didn't lift his eyes from the book, but Bucky could see he wasn't reading.

He watched Steve for a moment, searching his face, "I assumed you would like space to yourself…"

That's when Steve decided to turn to him, smiling faintly, "I'd love the company, actually."

Bucky's heart leapt up into his throat and he shifted until he was balanced up on his knees, looking Steve up and down from over the top of the chair back, "We will dine together, then."

Steve agreed and eventually left the library to go wash up. The moment he was gone, Bucky jumped up off the chair, giddy as a child as he pumped his hands in the air, "Yes!"

"I take it went well then?"

Bucky whipped around to see Natasha slipping into the room, a grin crossing her features. He felt his face heat up even as he straightened his back and tilted his chin up challengingly, "Yeah, so?"

"Just happy to see something is going right for you, for once."

He sat carefully back in the chair, "Steve loves the library. And he wants to have dinner together tonight."

"Did you suggest it, or did he?"

Bucky smiled widely, "He did."

Natasha nodded, looking pleased, "Well, there's no time to waste. Go get ready, I'll go let Peggy know to set the table for two."

He walked her down the hall to the stairs, where they parted ways as she headed to the kitchens and he to his room.

It was when he was in the middle of scrubbing his face, mask placed next to the sink, that it occurred to him. He'd have to take the mask off to eat. He'd be completely exposed to Steve, and if he did the beast would emerge. The beast never liked to be fully seen, it preferred to be hidden, as it assured it that it could sneak up on its victim.

Steve wouldn't be safe, if the beast felt he could see its entirety. Bucky had to call off dinner.

So, when Natasha came up to let him know he could come down, Bucky blurted, "I'm not going."

"What do you mean you're not going? That’s ridiculous." Natasha's eyes traveled over his face, assessing. "What are you worried about?"

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed before he collapsed, legs feeling weak, "I'll hurt him. I'll have to take the mask off to eat, and the beast will lash out if Steve sees it."

"Steve isn't going to see the beast, he's going to see you."

Deep down, Bucky knew she had a point, knew she believed him strong enough to stomp down the beast, but nerves gnawed at his mind. "No. He can't see me."

"...Alright. Okay. He won't see you. I'll take care of it." Natasha crossed her arms in front of her.

Bucky blinked quietly at her, forcing himself to take deep breaths before he could start hyperventilating, "You… how?"

"Just come on. Trust me." She nodded to the door, not moving from her spot until Bucky followed her. He trailed behind her the entire way to the kitchens, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and worrying his lip.

She made him sit at one end of the table and he stared, wide-eyed at the empty seat across him in plain view. Bucky could hear her saying something to Sam, and could see them moving about out of the corner of his eye.

Then suddenly there was a vase full of roses between him and the other end of the table, obscuring his view. Bucky stared at it, turning slowly toward Natasha and Sam, standing on either side of the vase as they centered it.

"There. Now Steve can admire your beautiful roses _and_ he won't see you completely."

Bucky nodded slowly, though he continued to chew his lip, “Thank you.”

Natasha smiled faintly, nodding.

Now his only worry was whether or not Steve would actually show up. He desperately hoped that Steve wouldn’t stand him up, that this wasn’t just some cruel joke. It didn’t seem like something Steve would do, but what did Bucky really know about his character?

However, just moments after Natasha and Sam moved off the table to the mantle, the door to the dining room creaked open and Steve stepped inside.

Bucky turned to him immediately, composing himself, “You came.”

“Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?” Steve took his seat at the other end of the table, eyes falling to the vase of roses. His eyes flicked up to Bucky, questioning with the barest quirk of his eyebrow.

At Steve’s soft noise of confusion, Bucky jerked, fidgeting in his seat, “I only ask… that you don’t move to see around the roses, and you do not get up unless told you can do so.”

When the other man frowned and looked like he was about to argue, Bucky forced himself to meet Steve’s eyes. He tried to convey his discomfort and pleas in that one look, silently asking Steve to understand and just give him this one thing.

Finally, Steve nodded, shifting until the roses sat neatly between them, blocking the lower half of their faces, “Alright.”

Bucky observed Steve’s eyes as Peggy brought the cart over.

She gave them each a bowl of chowder and a goblet of red wine, casting an encouraging smile Bucky’s way. Peggy nodded gently to Steve before she joined Sam and Natasha up on the mantle, where they immediately started whispering amongst themselves.

Bucky didn’t move until Steve smiled up at him and started to eat. Then he reached up, hands shaking, and unclasped the clip on the back of the muzzle. As he pulled it away from his skin, setting it gingerly on the table as if it would shatter and he’d be left vulnerable, he shivered at the cold air hitting his skin.

He felt heavy, waiting for the beast to reveal itself and take over his mind. But, it never happened. The beast continued to slumber at the back of his mind, leaving his mind reeling from fading nerves. Steve was safe.

The sudden loss of worry he felt made his stomach clench in hunger. It hit him then just how hungry he really was. So immediately he dug into the chowder in front of him, barely noticing when bits of potato missed his mouth and fell to the table, or when warm chowder dripped down his chin. At least he didn’t notice until Peggy cleared her throat loudly.

Bucky looked up to find her staring him down, eyes stern. She didn’t need to speak for him to get the message. A brief glance at Steve found the other man blinking at Bucky, though those blue eyes danced with amusement.

“Sorry…” Bucky mumbled, carefully wiping his mouth with his napkin. He slowed his pace, giving himself a chance to actually savor the chowder. It was delicious, spiced and creamy. It warmed him to the bones.

When he chanced another look up at Steve, he was shocked to find himself being stared at. It made him suddenly uncomfortable and self-aware. Bucky bit his lip, “Steve?”

Steve’s eyes cleared and he actually _blushed_ , honest-to-God blushed, all the way to the tips of his ears. Bucky could see the color disappearing down into the collar of Steve’s shirt and a stray thought wondered just how far south that blush went.

“Sorry.” Bucky shoved the thought away at Steve’s voice, sounding like a kid with his arm elbow-deep in the cookie jar. “Got distracted.”

“By what?” Man, Bucky hoped he didn’t regret asking.

Steve floundered, eyes widening slightly as he looked around wildly. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like he was searching for the right words. Bucky found it endearing.

“I’m sure he was just thinking about all the books he’s got to read now, thanks to you, sir.” Sam’s voice piped up from the mantle, where the candelabra proceeded to look very proud of himself.

Steve gave Sam a grateful look before turning back toward Bucky, “I can’t thank you enough for that library. It’s the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Bucky smiled widely, feeling his eyes squint slightly at the praise, “I’m glad you like it. Have you always liked reading?”

Steve nodded slightly, “Since I was young, yeah. My mother, Sarah, used to read to me, before she got ill. Then I would read to her until she passed away.” Before Bucky could comment, Steve barreled on, “I like drawing as well.”

A sensitive topic then. Bucky could respect that; he didn’t like talking about his parents all that much either.

So instead of pushing, Bucky simply tilted his head and commented, “I noticed you drawing in the garden.” ‘Noticed’ was an understatement. More like keenly observed.

“The flowers are gorgeous,” Steve nodded slightly as he spoke, a smile finding its place back on his lips. “And your staff is interesting to draw. Definitely something I’ve never had a chance to sketch, to put it lightly.”

Bucky grinned, a small huff of laughter forcing itself past his lips.

The silence that took over the rest of the meal was a comfortable one, Bucky sparing glances up at Steve whenever he wasn’t looking to let his eyes roam over smooth skin and a plush mouth. He thought about the way Steve’s face had lit up when he saw the library, and when Bucky had told him it was all for him. It made him feel warm, almost feather-light, being able to bring so much joy to this man sitting across him.

When he finished his food, Bucky hesitated. He didn’t really want to put the muzzle back on, after experiencing what it was like to be without it for so long and in the presence of another human being. It was for Steve’s safety, though, and that made him finally reach for the muzzle. He secured it carefully back over his mouth and nose, grimacing against the constricted feeling and the overwhelming heat of his skin blasting back at him inside the mask.

“You may get up if you want now.” Bucky looked over at Steve, watching him stand and stretch. If Bucky’s eyes flicked down to the inch of skin that was revealed when his shirt hiked up, he’d never admit it.

When Steve picked up his empty bowl and goblet, starting toward the kitchen, Bucky panicked and blurted, “Perhaps… we could go for a walk tomorrow?”

He jutted his lower lip out slightly and tried his best puppy dog eyes when Steve turned to look at him. Of course, he had to depend on his pleading eyes being enough to convince Steve, since he wouldn’t see Bucky’s pout.

And when Steve slumped slightly, smiled, and told him “Of course. I’d like that,” it took everything in Bucky to not jump up and cheer. Well, he waited until Steve had disappeared into the kitchen with Peggy before he did it at least.

Bucky grinned behind the muzzle, clapping his hands together once and clutching them together.

Sam laughed from the mantle, “Congrats, man!”

“You’ve already set up a second date. Very impressive.” Natasha smiled fondly.

He looked up at them, “Thank you, guys… for everything. I couldn’t have managed this without you.”

Sam nodded, “We’re here to support you. Whatever you need.”

“Really. I know I don’t say it enough. And I know I was a real fucking asshole before, but I really do want to be better… I appreciate your help.” It made Bucky feel good to finally recognize everything Sam and Natasha had done for him, Peggy too. He’d have to thank her the next time he saw her.

Natasha waved the thanks off, though Bucky could tell she was happy, “You know we’d do anything for you. Now if you plan on spending tomorrow with Steve again, you should get some rest.”

Bucky nodded immediately and headed upstairs. He actually crawled into his bed, and he slept better that night than he had in a long time.

When he woke the next morning, Bucky blinked blearily until his room came into focus. The curtains, drawn back like many of the other curtains in the castle as of late, fluttered in a cool breeze. It made Bucky pull his covers up higher, over his head to block out the cold air. He snuffled sleepily, letting his eyes fall shut again until he remembered he’d made plans with Steve.

Bucky sat up sharply, peering out the window to see how early it was. The cloud cover overhead blocked out the sun though, making it hard to determine the time of day. Regardless, he pulled himself up and changed into fresh clothes. Bucky methodically moved through his morning routine, taking one of his warmer cloaks from the wardrobe before moving downstairs.

Steve was in the dining room when Bucky found him, just finishing his breakfast. He looked up as Bucky paused in the doorway, unsure if he was welcome. But Steve smiled and motioned to his empty plate, “Good morning. I wasn’t sure when you were getting up. Did you want breakfast?”

“No… thank you. I’m not all that hungry…” Bucky shuffled his feet, tucking his hands into his pocket and pulling his shoulders in in an effort to look smaller and less threatening. He still wasn’t exactly sure how Steve felt about him, or if the man was still scared of him. Though after last night, Bucky thought it wasn’t a very big chance.

Steve wiped his mouth with his napkin as he stood, thanking Peggy. He took a bag from the table before going over to Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes flicked up to meet the blue of the deepest oceans. Sucking in a sharp breath and holding it, he didn’t dare look away.

The few seconds that passed could have been hours for all Bucky knew. Both men just silently reading each other, almost close enough for their breath to mingle.

Steve broke the trance, beckoning Bucky after him as he started for the doors. One corner of his mouth flicked up and a single eyebrow quirked as he waited for Bucky’s equally silent response.

Bucky felt like he was moving in slow motion as his eyes moved down to settle on Steve’s outstretched hand, fingers curled just so. He pushed himself forward, following after Steve in almost a trance.

It had snowed more last night, and a nice thick blanket covered everything in sight. Bucky liked the way it made everything quieter and more intimate. Even wrapped in his cloak, he could feel the air biting at his skin and making the tips of his fingers numb.

A small flock of birds huddled together on the bare branches of a nearby tree, tweeting and twittering to one another in the morning sun. When Steve reached into the little bag he had brought and threw bird seed across the snow patch in front of him, the birds came right to him, eating up the seed.

Bucky was in awe, hovering somewhat behind Steve as he watched. He didn’t want to scare the birds off, not when they seemed so content with eating their breakfast. His plan was to just stay quiet and keep to himself, letting Steve take charge.

Until Steve turned toward him and asked, “Do you want to try?”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he found himself nodding eagerly, despite his fear that the birds would take one look at him and flee.

Steve reached out and took his bare hand, making Bucky look up at him sharply. He wasn’t paying attention though, gently guiding Bucky to cup his hands in front of him. Steve poured a small pile of bird seed into Bucky’s hands and squeezed his shoulder, smiling encouragingly.

Bucky crouched slowly, eyes on the birds. He bit his lip, thrusting his hands out toward them.

The small birds fluttered away from his hands, moving further away and pecking at seeds a few feet away.

Bucky frowned, eyebrows drawing together. He felt some odd mix of disappointment and determination, shuffling forward after the birds. Sticking his hands out again, he huffed in frustration when they moved away again, scattering a bit.

A warm hand wrapped around his shoulder and he glanced up to see Steve smiling down at him. The other man kneeled close to him, putting some more seed in his hand and urging him to set his hands in the snow.

Bucky froze up when one of the smaller birds hopped closer, following a trail of seeds that Steve laid out right up into Bucky’s hands. It paused just next to Bucky’s outstretched hands before flitting up into them and settling down to eat up the seed in his palms.

He turned excitedly to Steve to make sure he had seen, grinning like an idiot behind the muzzle. If this little bird trusted him, maybe he wasn’t _all_ that bad. Maybe it would show Steve that he could be kind and gentle.

And Steve was already watching him, a strange light in his eyes that Bucky didn’t recognize. It made him pause, time slowing to a stop as he stared into eyes so blue it still came as a surprise when he glimpsed a shimmer of green. He was so immersed in examining every fleck of color that he blinked quickly a few times when Steve stood abruptly.

Bucky started to worry that he had done something wrong, but Steve squeezed his arm gently before moving a few feet away and taking a deep breath. Bucky stared, watching each movement with intense focus.

When Steve cast a glance over his shoulder at Bucky, he didn’t move, continuing to stare.

Steve smiled faintly before slipping soundlessly behind a large tree.

Bucky’s eyebrows drew together briefly as he eyed the tree. When Steve didn’t reemerge, he turned his attention back to the small bird in his hand, which had been joined by two more. His mind wandered back to when Steve had taken his hand, his _left_ hand. He never left his room without a glove on that hand, covering up any traces of the rose and its wandering vines. Steve hadn’t hesitated to take that hand, though, and he didn’t even flinch or shudder.

It made Bucky smile wider at the gathering birds. They were lined up along his arms now, one perched atop his head. Without warning, they flew off again to some other part of the gardens.

Bucky turned quickly to see if Steve had just witnessed the same thing he had, and was met with a face full of snow.

He recoiled from the sudden cold, blinking snow off his lashes in time to see Steve doubled over in laughter. A game… Steve was playing. It made Bucky grin, and he started to gather snow into a large ball. He lifted the monstrosity over his head, ready to launch it at Steve. His creation didn’t even leave his fingers before he was hit in the face with another snowball from Steve. Bucky jerked in shock and dropped his gigantic snowball on top of his own head.

He made an abortive noise, snow trickling down the back of his shirt and making him shudder heavily. A laugh ripped itself free of his mouth and he closed his eyes against the sudden surge of joy he felt.

Instead of trying to hit Steve with more snowballs, Bucky staggered toward him in the snow, arms outstretched to grab him.

Steve gave an indignant squeak and ducked back behind the tree. Whenever Bucky thought he had him, he would get a snowball to the face and would have to pause as he spit out snow and shook the fluff clear of his hair.

Bucky gathered up snow as he moved, packing it into a ball. He saw his chance as Steve was starting to slow, and moved a bit away from the tree. When Steve turned to grin at him, Bucky threw it and hit Steve right in the face.

For a second he was scared he had thrown it too hard and hurt Steve on accident, but then Steve was laughing. Bucky watched the other man throw his head back as he laughed. He ended up slipping a bit and sat down in the snow, giggles slipping past his lips.

Bucky grinned, sitting next to him. He reached up as he laughed, carefully brushing snow from Steve’s hair.

Steve smiled over at him, that strange light back in his eyes. He leaned into Bucky slightly, shivering against the cold. It made Bucky smile and murmur, “Come on. Let’s get inside and warm up.”

Bucky stood, and this time it was he who held a hand out for Steve to take. When Steve did accept the offer, he didn’t let go, and they fled the cold that way, tucked close to share body warmth.

Peggy made them tea and they spared her the journey to the library by bringing the cart themselves.

A fire was already ablaze in the fireplace, throwing light across every book spine. It was much warmer inside and the two settled comfortably in front of the fire, sipping at their tea.

Steve took _Romeo and Juliet_ from the table by the chairs, flicking to the page they had ended on last time. They had just started this story when Steve had finished it yesterday and Bucky asked what it was. Steve had been surprised that he’d never read the story before, and Bucky didn’t have the heart to tell him he hadn’t read a single sentence in years.

As Steve finished, carefully closing the book, Bucky smiled, head resting on his arms from where he was sprawled on the floor in front of the fire, “I never knew books could do that…”

Steve blinked over at him, setting the book back on the table, “Do what?”

“Take you away… from this life.” Bucky was surprised at his confession, letting the words hang in the air between them. He’d never really talked about his life in the castle, and he especially hadn’t ever expressed not enjoying it. If he was honest with himself, he felt trapped. Even the cavernous rooms of the castle seemed too small, like the walls were pressing in on him. The muzzle made it hard to breathe and he hated the damn thing, but he knew it was to protect others. He didn’t want Steve to pity him, though, so he looked up, “Can you read another?”

Steve reached back to the table, taking a book out of the tall stack there, “How about you read one to me?”

Oh _shit_. Bucky couldn’t bullshit this, couldn’t bullshit reading a book to someone. Especially to Steve, who had probably read this already.

Even so, Bucky gingerly took the book from him, “Uh… okay…” He flipped to the first page, staring at the words and waiting for something to click in his head or spark some kind of recognition. He made a soft, frustrated noise, pushing it away from him, “I… I can’t.”

“You mean… you never learned?” Steve shifted slightly so he was sitting closer, one hand going to the small of Bucky’s back.

Bucky bit his lip, “I learned! It’s just been… so long.” Years, really. He had learned, sure, when his mother and Peter’s Aunt May were still alive. When his mother got busy, May would come read with him and he would read to her. After they’d both died, he’d tried to get back into reading, but it had been lonely and he had given up fairly quickly, turning instead to throwing parties and attending balls.

Steve just nodded gently in understanding, scooting closer again until their thighs were pressed flush, “Here. I’ll help you.”

Before long, Bucky was no longer stumbling over words and looking up at Steve for reassurance. He lost himself in the story and reading it to Steve. There were a few words, every few pages, that Bucky wasn’t familiar with and needed assistance with, but other than that he did pretty well. He didn’t stop until he noticed Steve yawning and taking long blinks.

Bucky nudged him gently with his shoulder, “I should let you go to bed. It’s late.” He stood carefully, making sure Steve didn’t tip over, and held a hand out.

Steve took it gratefully, stumbling to his feet.

Bucky didn’t let go of his hand immediately, thumb brushing over the back of Steve’s hand and his fingers lingering on his palm before he pulled completely away. He wasn’t sure if he imagined the little shiver Steve gave or not.

“Here, I’ll bring our cups to Peggy. Goodnight, Bucky.”

Bucky smiled, “Goodnight, Steve.” As he slipped out the door, padding silently down the hallway in socked feet, he mulled over the day’s events. They’d spent the entire day together, and butterflies flitted around, trapped inside Bucky’s stomach.

He wanted to do something for Steve again, something grand that would be a treat for him. Something unforgettable. Steve deserved that. So, on Bucky’s way up to his room, he took a fresh red rose from a vase. He’d plan out his surprise for Steve later, but for now, this was Bucky’s attempt at thanking him for today.

Bucky glanced toward the kitchens before sneaking up to Steve’s room. Clint snored in the corner and Bucky tip-toed over to Steve’s bed. He laid the rose carefully upon Steve’s pillow, slipping back out and into the shadows when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He didn’t dare breathe until he watched Steve disappear into his room and quietly close the door behind him.

Bucky watched the door for a moment before making his way back to his room, light as a feather.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final chapter I'll be giving you guys this week! Hopefully the next one will be out on time and you'll get to read it on Sunday!

Sleep evaded Bucky that night, and he fought fruitlessly against the anxiety chewing away his insides. His sheets ended up tangled around his feet as the hours of the night stretched on, each twist and turn he made resulted in a tighter knot, until a growl rose in his throat and he tore them away completely.

He stopped himself before he threw the bothersome sheets across the room, looking down at ghostly knuckles clasped tightly around dark bedsheets. Bucky let his eyes fall shut and took a few deep breaths, fingers slowly relaxing until the clump of fabric slipped slowly off his fingers like water.

When he had returned to his bedroom, he’d called upon Natasha and begged her to help him plan something special for Steve. He’d thrown out so many ideas, deeming each unworthy of Steve, and Natasha hadn’t gotten a single word in until she interrupted him.

“James. Throw a ball for him.”

“A ball?”

“A ball. Just you and him. Peggy and Thor will take care of food. Sam and I will take care of the atmosphere.”

Bucky had stopped, had thought over the possibilities. It’d been such a long time since he’d danced, but it was nearly second nature to him. If he invited Steve to dance with him, it’d be the closest they’d ever been.

Naturally he agreed to Natasha’s plan and she had left to alert the rest of the staff.

For the rest of the night, Bucky’s mind was frozen on the image of Steve pressed up close to him, with Bucky’s arm wrapped around his waist. He could practically feel the warmth of Steve’s skin against his own.

The sun had barely begun to peek above the treetops when Bucky swung his legs out of bed and rose to his feet. He took a piece of paper from his desk, folding it carefully into a card with shaking hands.

Bucky held his breath as he wrote a short note, carefully sweeping his signature onto the paper for the first time in years. The letters looked clumsy, but still legible. Before he folded it in half, he read over it once, mouth moving slowly around the words…

_Steve,_

_I’ve enjoyed the last few days more than you know. I want to invite you to dinner tonight, and perhaps a dance afterwards?_

_Yours,_

_Bucky_

It took him longer than he would admit to actually leave his room on a journey to deliver the note.

The long hallways glowed with light from the advancing dawn, streaking orange sun across Bucky’s face as he approached Steve’s room on silent soles. It blanketed the gardens below with life, inviting the birds to flit about and lighting up the snow like pulverized diamonds.

When Bucky reached Steve’s door, he froze. He doubted Steve was up this early, so he dared not knock.

The beast whispered in the back of his mind, taking on the voice of the Enchantress who had cursed him, “What if he _is_ awake, James? What if he doesn’t accept your invitation?”

Bucky swallowed hard, head pounding, and reached for the door handle. His fingers brushed the cool metal before the voice continued.

“How can you even begin to believe that he loves you? How could he? Have you looked at yourself lately? You’re a mess, a disgrace; you don’t deserve him.”

Bucky turned the handle harder than he expected and could hear the metal creaking beneath his fingers. He pushed open the door, peaking inside.

Steve was still fast asleep, oblivious to the voice still poking and prodding at Bucky’s mind. He breathed deeply, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he dreamed.

Bucky’s heart clenched and jumped up into throat as he was hit with a sudden wish to wake up to this, every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted nothing more than to be able to crack open his eyes on any given morning and be met with a view of Steve’s slack face inches from his. Nothing would make him happier.

Bucky nearly jumped out of his skin when Steve inhaled deeply and turned over. He waited a beat or two before deciding that Steve was still asleep. Inching forward and taking no breath, he carefully set the card on the nightstand before tip-toeing back out of the room.

He didn’t dare breathe until he was safely in the hallway with the door shut. Bucky’s legs felt like jelly as he half-stumbled back to his quarters. His heart pounded against his ribcage but a smile graced his lips. He’d bested the beast, finally, after endless years of letting it win. And it had all started with Steve.

Steve, who he was going to treat with the most glorious ball ever seen in all the realms Bucky could still name from his childhood lessons, was quickly becoming his life line. When it had initially crossed his mind that Steve may be able to break the spell, Bucky would admit he was a bit selfish about it. It’d started similar to his encounter with Dot, with Bucky so focused on the spell that it took him awhile to finally realize how hard his heart would beat whenever he was near Steve. It took even longer for him to allow Steve’s presence to seep into the smallest niches of his life.

Now he wanted to ensure Steve was the happiest possible, because Bucky loved watching his face brighten and his lips tug up at the corners. After that first taste of the experience when he gave Steve the library, Bucky wanted nothing less than to drunken himself on Steve’s smile.

Of course, he couldn’t do that if he didn’t make sure everything tonight was perfect. He propelled himself to his armoire, pushing faded and moth bitten clothes further into the back where he’d probably deal with them later. Each and every one of his regular suits either weren’t good enough or were in bad shape, turned to Swiss cheese by starving moths. Bucky rejected nearly every outfit, tossing it out onto the floor, before finally reaching the back of the armoire, where he discovered his saving grace.

It was his newest suit, made just before the curse took hold so many years ago. He’d never gotten a chance to wear it, but it seemed the fates were smiling down upon him today.

The shirt was classic and white, a gathering of fabric in the front with a blue gem glimmering in the center. The right sleeve was long, but the left was cut off at the shoulder to accommodate for the rose. Over it went a bronze vest, fastened down the front in matching buttons. The statement piece was the blue jacket with golden trim around the collar and sleeves, coat tails hanging in the back. To complete the look were black pants and shiny black shoes. It was perfect, exactly what he needed.

Bucky laid everything out on the bed, smoothing out creases in the clothes and brushing away dust. After one more look at the suit, he went to the balcony, desperate for fresh air to fill his lungs and calm his nerves.

The air held a chill, gentle breezes rustling through the bare branches of the trees below in the garden. He sat on the balcony railing, hanging his legs out over the garden and peering down from the dizzying height. Bucky cast his eyes to the sky beyond the castle walls instead, much brighter now and settling to a gentle blue shade as the sun crawled its way higher.

The beast had been quiet for a while, and hadn’t been able to fully show itself for some time. Each and every time it attempted to break free, Bucky stamped it back down and shoved it back into the shadows. He refused to back down now, having tasted such a sweet, warm way of life.

Steve had brought him light and heat in a way Bucky had never experienced before. He no longer truly craved freedom from the curse, but instead wished only to be able to stay and bask in Steve’s personal glow. He’d learned to control the beast and the animal urges that used to take charge of every nerve in his body, and Steve seemed to accept Bucky the way he was.

If it wasn’t for Steve, Bucky wouldn’t have been able to rediscover himself in the first place. His mind and soul would have been lost in a body he didn’t recognize, left arm torn and scarred, eyes dark and blood-shot. For a long time, he couldn’t even tell his mind apart from the minds of the wolves that sang him to sleep from their forest hideouts. Steve had helped him to change, though.

Bucky stayed on the balcony for a long time, letting the crisp air clear his head and calm his screaming mind. Natasha had told him last night that she would take care of setting up the ballroom and let Peggy know the plan so she could be ready.

“James?”

He jerked at the voice, having not heard anyone enter his room or make their way through his chaotic room and onto the balcony. He turned to find Natasha waiting in the doorway, watching him steadily.

“Natasha… Is everything ready?”

“Just about. Everything is cleaned, thanks to Peter. Peggy’s crew is nearly finished with food. Sam’s finished with the candles and the music is about finished.” Natasha nodded, her calm demeanor helping to soothe Bucky’s racing mind.

Bucky let the tension drain from his shoulders, carefully rolling them back and listening to them groan and crack.

“He seems excited for tonight.”

Natasha’s words sent hope surging through him, and he couldn’t help the smile that pulled sharply at the edges of his mouth.

“You need to finish getting ready. Is that suit on your bed what you’re wearing?”

Bucky nodded, biting his lip and expecting a criticism as he followed Natasha back inside.

Instead, Natasha smiled, “Excellent choice. It’s nice to see that your sense of style has at least survived.”

He grinned at the jab, running his fingers over the smooth fabric of the suit. It was the best he had, and he prayed it was enough for tonight. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint Steve.

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

Natasha gave him a chastising look, shaking her head fondly, “James. I’m pretty sure Steve would love it even if you just showed up in a potato sack, or nothing at all for that matter.”

Her comment made him grin, a laugh bubbling up through his chest. It made him feel joyous and more confident about what that night might bring.

“Come on. You’ve got to get washed up. I want to be able to see my face reflected in your skin by the time you’re done. Off you go.” Natasha shooed him off to the bathroom, promising to send Sam up once the other man had finished his preparations for the ball.

Bucky ran the bath, getting it as warm as he could bear. He filled it with scented oil and soap, closing his eyes briefly and letting the steam wash over him.

Clothes hit the floor one at a time until Bucky could sink completely into the bath water all the way up to his chin. He hissed lightly in pain when the water came in contact with the welts on his left arm, the heat burning at the open wounds before the feeling passed and the water felt nice against his skin.

He didn’t get much time to himself, only just barely managing to wash his hair before Sam was knocking on the door and letting himself into the bathroom.

The candlestick grinned widely, letting out an ecstatic “tonight is the night!” as he hopped closer and made his way up onto a stool to be at a more even height with Bucky.

Bucky raised his eyebrows as he dipped his hair into the water, rinsing out the soap, then shook his head vigorously to rid himself of the water droplets. The motion made Sam throw up his arms to shield his face as water smattered every surface.

“Sam… I’m not sure I can do this…” Bucky pushed his hair out of his face, glancing briefly at the little candlestick. Just beyond his friend, he could see one of his smashed mirrors, hanging lopsided on the wall with glass shards littering the floor beneath it. The sight made his stomach churn in guilt and he pulled his gaze away.

Sam sighed, “Master… you don’t have time to be timid. You must be bold… daring!” He struck a pose, as if he was attempting to flex his muscles.

“Bold… daring…” Bucky leapt up to his feet, nearly slipping on the smooth tub bottom. He braced himself on the edges of the tub, water sloshing out of the basin.

Sam continued to talk as Bucky wrapped a towel around his waist and sat in front of his mirror, “There will be music… romantic candlelight, provided by _myself_ of course!”

Bucky rolled his eyes fondly, an enchanted coat rack rushing over to him and towel drying his hair.

Sam grinned, “and when the moment is right, you confess your love!”

“Yes… Yes, I confess… my… No… I can’t.” Bucky stared at himself in the mirror, eyes raking over the mask covering the lower half of his face.

Sam halted, staring at him in disbelief, “Well, you care for Steve, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” Bucky admitted, warmth blooming in his chest at the thought. Examining himself in the mirror, though, Bucky knew that Steve deserved better than anything he could give.

“Then you must _tell him_ ,” Sam insisted, watching the coat rack working with his hair. He took a hop back to get a better view and smiled, “Voila! You look so… so…”

Bucky looked up into the mirror at Sam’s hesitant words. The coat rack had curled his hair and pinned it up close to his head, so there were little sausage roll curls lining his face. The look was completed with a blue bow adorning the top of this head. He watched his own face drop into an expression of exasperation and annoyance.

“Stupid,” he finished for Sam.

Sam fished for a recovery, waving his hands so quickly the flames nearly flickered out, “Not quite the word I was looking for…” He then motioned to the coat rack again, “maybe a little more off the top.”

The coat rack went back to work on his hair, and when it stepped back again, Bucky had to admit he looked kind of… handsome. The rack had neatly combed his hair back into a tiny ponytail, a small blue bow tied at the base. It matched the color of the suit he would be wearing tonight.

His eyes actually looked bright and excited when he locked gazes with his reflection. Even he could see the smile beneath the muzzle.

Bucky rose to his feet and dressed, carefully pulling the coat into place and examining himself slowly in the least-ruined mirror he had. The long cracks in the glass made it difficult, but he saw enough to feel a pang of confidence hit him.

It was quickly extinguished as Natasha opened the door and smiled, “Your gentleman awaits.”

Bucky gulped, turning around and fussing with the end of his coat. He followed Natasha out of the west wing on shaky legs, shuffling past nervously when she stopped and motioned him toward the staircase.

He raised his eyes to the other staircase, where he found Steve stepping forward with his hands clasped behind his back.

Steve looked gorgeous, in a yellow suit jacket over a white dress shirt and a pale waist coat. He wore white pants and brown boots to complete the outfit. Seeing him in a suit reminded Bucky of a blond he had never met face-to-face, at a ball that now seemed a million years away. When Bucky dragged his eyes up to Steve’s face, he met blue eyes with his own steely gray.

Steve sucked his lower lip between his teeth and smiled shyly at him, eyes dropping to perform his own examination of Bucky, who did his best not to fidget under the attention.

Bucky began his descent to the landing, Steve quickly mimicking him. Once they were standing directly in front of each other, he couldn’t help but look Steve up and down again, admiring the little gold embroidery details in his suit. He left Steve’s eyes for last, heart already pounding in his chest.

He took probably a second too long drinking in as much as he could of Steve’s eyes. God, he couldn’t get over the color. From a distance, they were stunning of course, such a rich shade of blue, but Bucky was grateful that he was lucky enough to know the truth. The faintest shade of green mixed with the blue, seen only when standing close, felt to him like a secret shared between them two.

Bucky was pleasantly surprised to see blood rush to Steve’s face, tinging his cheeks a rosy pink that made Bucky’s lips twitch up beneath his mask.

They bowed to each other, as is custom, and Bucky offered his arm, tension falling from his shoulders as soon as Steve took it. As he led Steve down the rest of the stairs and toward the dining room, he couldn’t help but admit, “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

In his peripheral vision, he saw Steve look his way, brow furrowed slightly in question, “How could I possibly refuse?”

The words sent warmth curling through Bucky, wrapping tightly around his heart and squeezing until he could hardly breathe. He turned his face toward Steve, examining the curl of his lashes and the curve of his lips. What had he done to deserve this? If his whole miserable existence had been leading up to this… it was worth it.

Bucky reluctantly pulled his eyes away from Steve’s mouth and pulled a chair out for the other man. Once Steve was seated and comfortably adjusted, Bucky went to his own seat on the other side of the table.

Peggy was right on time, setting bowls of soup in front of them while Sam filled their goblets with wine. In the corner, Bucky could see Natasha goading the piano and violin into playing a soft tune in the background. The center of the table was set with a bouquet of roses to hide Bucky’s removal of his mask, as usual.

He thanked Peggy softly for the soup, and reached up to take off his mask. To Bucky’s own surprise, his hands were steady as he removed the bothersome muzzle and set it aside. As he and Steve ate this time, Bucky ate slow and steady, mimicking the way he had seen Steve eat.

After a few moments, he set his spoon aside and used a napkin to wipe his mouth. He cast his eyes to Steve on the other side of the table, “What was your mother like?”

He’s not entirely sure where the sudden curiosity came from. Bucky tried to tell himself that he just wanted to learn more about Steve, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he wanted to compare his own mother, a queen, to a mother from a village; a mother who had more time to spend with her child.

Steve blinked up at him from the other side of the table, “Ah… she was a very kind lady, a nurse, actually. She loved helping people and she loved children. She worked two jobs, when I was very young, to help pay for my doctor’s visits.”

Two jobs… maybe she didn’t have all that much time to spend with a young Steve. It made Bucky wonder if Steve would have let the old beggar woman in even before he knew she was a sorceress. Would Steve had passed the test, where Bucky failed?

Bucky nodded slowly, “She sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, she was… She never put herself first, you know?” Steve smiled sadly, looking down and stirring his spoon slowly through his soup. He glanced back up at Bucky, catching the other man off guard when he asked, “What about you?”

Bucky thought hard back to what he could remember of his own mother, tilting his head slightly. He could remember gentle, patient smiles and a hand stroking through his hair whenever he had a nightmare. Until the kingdom began to crumble and his mother’s face was replaced with the faces of servants as his parents disappeared on daily trips in an effort to protect their home.

“She was kind. Her and my father were usually off on diplomatic trips when I was young. But she died early on, as well. She was under a lot of stress and her heart couldn’t take it.” Bucky dropped his eyes to the table as he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.”

He shrugged, avoiding Steve’s eyes, “It was a long time ago.”

Silence stretched on for a few seconds before Steve cut through it again, “You know… I used to be the village terror.”

Bucky couldn’t appreciate the change in subject more, and he leaned forward in his seat a bit, “How so?”

Steve grinned at him, “When I wasn’t sick, I was picking fights. With guys much bigger than myself. At least back then. I used to be ninety pounds, wet.”

Bucky tried to picture it in his head: a much smaller Steve Rogers, all gangly limbs and much shorter. It made him laugh, “You’re shitting me. You’ve got to be.”

“No, really. I used to be really skinny, barely over five feet, and sick like you wouldn’t believe. But I would go up against these guys, these guys who completely deserved to have their asses handed to them. I was always the one who got my ass kicked, though.” Steve smiled ruefully, shrugging.

Bucky blinked slowly, brow creasing, “And you just kept doing it?” He thought Steve would have learned, would have kept himself out of trouble.

“Well, yeah. I couldn’t let them be rude to dames or be ignorant of those who went to war.” Steve frowned, shrugging again like it was nothing.

Bucky was nearly speechless, nerves building up beneath his skin, “Steve… you could have gotten _hurt_.” Or worse. He kept the last bit to himself, taking slow breaths to calm his emotions. His blood burned with some odd mix between anger and worry and he clenched his hands in his lap.

“I was fine, Bucky. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Bucky looked down at his food, shoulders tense. He could feel that his face was still scrunched up and he held his breath for a beat before exhaling slowly. Steve _was_ still here, that’s what was important.

He’d eaten his fill, and he reached for his mask, carefully securing it back on his face. The moment he did, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Steve walking toward him.

Steve smiled, holding out a hand, “May I have this dance?”

All the anger and nerves melted away like snow on the first day of spring and he felt his mouth pull up into a smile wide enough to make his eyes crinkle. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” Bucky took his hand, rising to his feet.

“You were taking your sweet time. So I figured I’d take matters into my own hands.” Steve grinned at him and Bucky took his hand, following him to the ballroom.

Bucky had forgotten how beautiful this room was, the open space making the sounds of their footsteps bounce back to them. The walls were gold, throwing warm light through the rest of the room and reflected in the polished stone floors. Stone pillars lined the edges of the room except for the very end, where rich blue canopies were pulled away from massive floor-to-ceiling windows. A door was built into the glass, leading out onto a stone balcony. Overhead, a domed ceiling was painted with cherubs suspended in flight amongst a pink sky. Hanging from the center of the ceiling was an extravagant golden chandelier, flickering with candlelight.

Violins standing in the corner of the room continued the tune that had been playing in the dining room and Steve turned to Bucky, pulling him in close with a hand on his waist. With his other hand, he twined his and Bucky’s fingers and Bucky’s heart swelled.

He allowed himself to be lead around the ballroom, carefully following Steve’s steps. Bucky had been a little worried that he wouldn’t remember how to dance, since it’d been so long. But it was coming to him like second nature and he easily matched Steve’s pace and movements as he had done years before at every ball he’d thrown.

This was different though, more intimate. There weren’t other guests Bucky had to trouble himself with, he could focus solely on Steve and their own personal waltz.

As the song continued and they grew more comfortable with one another, Steve grinned and spun Bucky out, his coat tails fanning out behind him as he turned and laughed. When Bucky was reeled back in, his back was against Steve’s chest and for just a second he could feel Steve’s heart beating against his shoulder blade.

Bucky turned back to face Steve again, beaming beneath his mask. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from tonight, but it was already exceeding what he could have ever wished for. Steve’s hands were warm and his smile was genuine. His eyes were bright and open and Bucky had never felt more in love.

Steve gave him such a soft smile that Bucky literally melted, leaning into him and tucking his head against the other man’s neck. He felt Steve’s hands twitch before wrapping securely around his waist and holding him against his chest.

For the first time in years, Bucky felt completely and utterly safe. No harm could come to him as long as Steve was with him. He had had little hope when Steve had initially stumbled upon his castle, not believing that anyone could possibly care about him this way. He had been afraid of the beast rising beneath his skin, but now it lay dormant deep in his chest. In this moment, it wasn’t so much growling as giving off a pleasant rumble, as happy as Bucky was in Steve’s arms.

The violin slowed and the candles around them dimmed to a gentle glow, and Bucky raised his head. Steve looked completely dumbfounded and in awe, staring down at him with firelit eyes.

Bucky chewed his lip, tugging on Steve’s hand until he followed him through the glass doors and out onto the balcony. They sat together on the railing, Bucky rubbing a nervous hand over his neck. He sighed, feeling flushed, and shrugged his jacket off.

As he removed the glove on his left hand, he noticed Steve’s eyes on his arm. In his moment of comfort and pure happiness, he’d neglected to consider that Steve had only seen the rose once before. And Bucky had run him out of the castle when it happened.

He found that he didn’t mind so much, now, if Steve saw the rose or not. Still, he found himself studying the other man as Steve’s eyes traveled over the petals of the rose and along the twists of the vine.

Those blue eyes went all the way from the heart of the rose head to the end of the vine sinking into Bucky’s wrist, before flicking up to Bucky’s face. Bucky couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze.

He could see Steve shift in the edge of his vision, raising a hand to brush away strands of hair from Bucky’s face. Then, he forced himself to look up into Steve’s eyes, taking in every fleck of green he could see being smothered by the blue.

“Why do you wear this, Bucky?” The words shocked Bucky out of his admiration, and he focused enough to see Steve’s eyes move down to the muzzle covering his mouth.

Bucky dropped his gaze again, quiet. The beast didn’t even stir, slumbering peacefully still. He waited for it to waken and rise, to tear itself back into control. Nothing came.

Why did he wear it? To protect those around him. To keep the beast at bay. But the beast had been quiet for a while, had begun to fall dormant the longer he’d been with Steve. The enchantress had fitted him with the muzzle to keep him from hurting anyone else. But he wouldn’t. He’d rather die than hurt Steve.

Bucky found himself feeling determined and focused when he raised his head again. Despite his courage, his hands shook as they raised and undid the clasp behind his head. He waited for a beat for the beast to roar to life, but it stayed silent. With a deep breath, he pulled the mask away from his face, carefully setting it aside.

Bucky didn’t dare lift his eyes, didn’t dare look Steve in the face. He fixed his gaze on a spot on the balcony edge, staring until his eyes sting.

At least, he did so until Steve lifted a hand and brushed the pads of his fingers against the stubble lining Bucky’s jaw. Then he leaned into the warm of Steve’s skin, a sigh escaping his lips as the tension left his shoulders.

“Steve…” This was his chance. All he had to do was tell Steve he loved him, and then hope that Steve felt the same way about him. He was so close. He could do this. Bucky looked up at the man before him, hand coming up to touch Steve’s, still resting against his face. “Are you happy here? With me?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could panic any further, and Bucky swore his heart stopped in that moment as he awaited a reply.

Steve’s lips lifted in a small smile, “Of course…”

Bucky’s heart lifted, weight dropping away as his anxiety peeled back.

“I just…”

And just like that, Bucky’s heart sank again. Distantly, he was sure he could hear the beast stirring in its den.

Steve squeezing his hand threw him back into focus, “Bucky. I’ve never been happier, I promise. But Tony… I just wish there was a way for me to see him again. I… I miss him.”

Tony. Bucky had nearly forgotten about Steve’s companion from the village. It was arguable that he was even part of the reason Steve had been forced to stay in the castle and Bucky had gotten the chance to redeem himself.

Steve was worried about his friend, Bucky could see that in the furrow between his brows and the way his teeth made a small indent in his lower lip. He could fix that.

“There’s a way.” Bucky took Steve’s hand, fingers twitching over his mask before picking that up as well, before he led him back inside.

On their trek to the West Wing, Bucky couldn’t help but relish in the feeling of Steve’s hand in his. Steve’s hand was warm and lightly calloused, fitting perfectly in Bucky’s own as their fingers intertwined.

At the entrance to the West Wing, he felt a small tug of resistance and glanced back to see Steve eyeing the hall beyond with weary eyes. Understandable, considering the last time he had been in the West Wing, Bucky had screamed him right out of the castle. But Bucky was insistent, tugging Steve’s hand gently until the man continued to follow.

Bucky went to the table by the balcony, picking the little hand mirror up. He turned, holding it out to Steve in offering. “This mirror’s enchanted. It will show you anything you want to see.”

Their hands brushed when Steve carefully took the silver mirror from him, frowning down at the dusty glass. After a quick glance up at Bucky, he squared his shoulders and told the mirror, “I’d like to see Tony, please.”

The mirror lit up green for a moment, surface crackling with magic as the glass rippled. Steve had the mirror tilted away from Bucky, enough that Bucky couldn’t see exactly what image was playing out on the enchanted mirror. Whatever it was made Steve’s eyes widen and grip tighten on the silver handle, “Oh no…”

“Steve, what is it?”

Steve didn’t even look up, eyes locked on the glass surface, “Tony’s out in the woods. He’s looking for me, by himself. He could get lost, or the wolves could get him. It’s freezing out, he needs help.”

Bucky blinked, turning until his back was to Steve. He brushed careful fingers against the rose set into his shoulder. There were only a few petals left, barely enough to be considered a flower anymore. He worked his jaw as he thought, clenching and unclenching as he considered his options. Who was he kidding? There was only one option. He couldn’t force Steve to stay here, not when he knew his friend was in danger. How could he expect Steve to forgive him if he kept Steve from helping Tony? Bucky would certainly never forgive anyone who did something like that to him.

He lifted his gaze, turning his head enough that Steve could hear his words but not enough that he had to actually look at the man, “Then you must go find him. Bring him back to the village. Take care of him.”

“I… what?” The confusion in Steve’s voice was apparent, and Bucky heard him shuffle a bit closer to him.

Bucky shuffled further away, “I’m letting you go; you’re free. You’re not my prisoner anymore.”

The silence between them dragged on long enough that Bucky had to glance further back to be sure that Steve was even still there.

Steve was standing still, eyes on Bucky as his mouth hung slightly open in surprise. “Bucky… thank you.” He looked to the mirror in his hands again, “Don’t worry, Tony. I’m coming.” When he looked back to Bucky, his eyes were grateful. It made Bucky’s heart clench.

When Steve held out the mirror, Bucky pushed it back toward his chest with a surprisingly steady hand. “Keep it. So you’ll always have a way to look back and remember me.” The smile that cracked across his lips wasn’t convincing, he knew that. He ran the back of his fingers against Steve’s cheek, committing the feeling of his skin to memory.

“Thank you… for understanding how much he needs me.” Steve’s smile was sad as he reached up and squeezed Bucky’s fingers before turning and walking out.

Bucky watched his first few steps away from him before lifting the muzzle with shaking hands. He clasped it back onto his face, hot breath beating back at him. When he looked up again, it was in time to see Steve’s back fall out of view.

Not willing to let him leave his sight so soon, Bucky raced to the balcony, eyes on the heavy wooden doors below. It wasn’t long before they swung open and Steve ran out to his horse. Bucky watched him mount and watched the front gates swing open with the same reluctance he felt himself at letting Steve go.

 _Maybe he’ll come back_ , the naïve little voice whispered in the back of his head, hope tugging at his heart. Bucky stamped it down, hurrying inside once Steve was past the gates. He climbed to the next level of the tower, watching Steve’s retreating back.

There was a moment where Bucky’s heart leapt up into his throat. Had Steve looked back? No, it couldn’t be.

He continued this way, climbing higher and higher until he was at the very top of the tower. Eventually the forest became so dense that he could no longer see his love through the thick canopy. Still, he stayed there, motionless and staring, until finally his fingers began to cramp from where he was desperately clutching at the side of the tower.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you lovelies! This one is on time. As Sebastian Stan told us for Civil War, make sure you're really hydrated. There will be tears shed in this chapter (my beta reader was offended by all the angst).

Natasha entered the West Wing not long after Bucky returned to the main floor. He heard her coming, listening to the tapping of her wooden pegs against the floor.

“James?” She stopped in the door, watching him. When he didn’t so much as turn toward her, she came closer. “What happened?”

Bucky blinked slowly, turning toward her, “I… I let him go. I… I love him.” The words sent a jolt of surprise through him. How long had it been since those words had honestly left his mouth?

“James—“

“Get out.”

Natasha looked affronted, eyes narrowing in her clock face. She opened her mouth to say something but Bucky cut her off.

“I said, get out!” Bucky turned, swiping a vase off the table next to him. It shattered against the wall near Natasha but she didn’t even flinch. She simply nodded and stepped back out.

He breathed heavy, eyes on the glass splinters littering the ground. It had been what felt like decades since he’d lost control. He knew the beast wasn’t hidden that far beneath his skin, and he could feel it now, twitching and growling.

Bucky sank onto his bed, clutching his head in his hands. He took a few deep breaths, pulling cool air into his lungs. The moment he closed his eyes, Steve’s face flitted across his mind’s eye and Bucky flinched.

Steve was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Why would he, after all? He had been Bucky’s prisoner, that was the only reason he had stayed as long as he did.

Bucky dragged his hands down his face, wincing when one of the thorns on his left hand scratched against his cheek. He’d be this way forever now. And his staff, his friends… they’d be trapped in this hell with him.

He whispered apologies to the open air, like maybe if he did it enough, it would bring Steve back. That it would give him another chance.

Bucky snarled, grabbing the bedside table and throwing it into the wall as well, the broken pieces joining the glass on the floor. Bucky’s shoulders heaved with each breath, and he blinked hard to clear his blurry vision. The tears burned his eyes and he swiped his right hand across his gaze to wipe them away.

Bucky brushed his fingers against the rose on his shoulder, flinching when another petal fell off. He rubbed it between his thumb and index finger, relishing in the silky feel.

He was tempted to just pluck all the petals off himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was some vain hope itching at the back of his mind, telling him he couldn’t, just in case Steve did come back. Maybe… maybe Bucky could go find Steve.

If they were in Steve’s environment, as friends, rather than a master and his prisoner, maybe Bucky could make up for the months of imprisonment. How could he be so sure that Steve would even give him the chance, though?

Bucky took a few deep breaths. He couldn’t revert back to this. If he had to live under this curse for the rest of his life, the least he could do was try to keep a handle on himself.

Even if he could find Steve’s village, he didn’t want to risk losing control of the beast. It’d been years since he’d been around large crowds, and he just wasn’t sure if he could handle it. But to see Steve again… the risk just might be worth it.

 _No_. Bucky couldn’t risk the beast clawing its way back into control.

He sighed to himself, eyes drifting to the book on his pillow. Bucky’d taken it from the library without Steve’s knowledge, confident he wouldn’t notice just one book missing. He’d started to read it on his own, carefully stumbling over the longer words and sounding them out to himself late at night while the rest of the castle dozed. He had been doing it in an attempt to impress Steve.

Steve had always read to him, and Bucky wanted to return the favor. He wanted to show Steve how much he’d learned and give Steve the same pleasure it gave him to be read to.

His heart clenched painfully at the thought that he wouldn’t get to show Steve how far he’d come and in an attempt to drive the feeling away, he snatched the book up. He moved to throw it but couldn’t bring himself to. Bucky could only imagine Steve’s face if he actually threw a book. It would destroy him more to knowingly mess up something Steve loved so much.

Instead, he clutched the small book to his chest, laying down. He watched out the balcony doors until his eyes stung.

Bucky managed a tiny, fitful nap, tears stinging behind his eyes the entire time. When he awakened, it was to the sound of shouting outside. It started as a distant roar, growing in volume with each passing second.

He heaved himself to his feet, shuffling to the balcony.

Down below, marching through the front gates and straight toward the oak front doors, was a mob. Complete with torches and pitch forks, they shouted together as one. The words registered sluggishly in Bucky’s mind and his stomach twisted.

“Kill the beast! Kill the beast!” The chants washed over him until his mind was reeling from it. They faded to a point where Bucky felt like he was underwater, and he gripped the ledge of the balcony with white knuckles.

No one had found him for years, save for Steve, and Tony that one time. Even then, he had only been found by chance. This… this was purposeful. They had come for him.

Bucky found himself scanning the crowd, searching for that sweep of blond hair, but Steve was nowhere to be seen. Some strange mix of relief and disappointment settled in his stomach like a stone.

He slunk back into his room, fingers stroking over the remaining petals on his shoulder. Steve wasn’t there… which means maybe he didn’t actually see Bucky as a monster. Either way, these people were here to kill him. At least he didn’t have a chance of seeing Steve again anyway. And maybe… maybe if he died before the curse became permanent, the castle and his staff would no longer suffer under the curse. If he just removed himself from the equation…

There were only a few petals left on the rose, and even those were clinging on by mere threads. Judging by the sound outside, the mob would be inside the castle soon. It was just a matter of time before they made it to him.

“James!”

Bucky turned slightly to see Natasha once again in his doorway.

“James, the castle is under attack.” Natasha’s voice was level, but Bucky could see the tension in her posture. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the situation or if she was becoming more clock-like.

He merely nodded in acknowledgement and watched Natasha shuffle agitatedly.

“James. What should we do?”

“Nothing.” To his own ears, his voice sounded like it was underwater. Bucky’s mouth moved of its own accord, his mind a million miles away. “It doesn’t matter now. Just let them come.”

Natasha’s face hardened and she practically fumed, “ _James_. Now is not the time—“

“Natasha. Let them come. They want me, so stay out of sight and let them come to _me_.” Bucky didn’t mean to snap at her, a snarl on the edge of his voice.

No matter how much his tone scared himself, Natasha appeared unfazed. She watched him steadily for a few moments before turning and leaving without another word.

Bucky couldn’t be sure she would listen to him, and he knew he couldn’t force her to do anything. But, if there was a chance his staff would be freed, he had to at least try to keep them out of harm’s way.

He heard the echoing _bang_ of the front doors being forced open and then silence as the mob’s voices shushed to nothing.

It’s Sam’s voice Bucky heard ring out with a clear order: “NOW!” And then the sounds of battle drifted up to the west wing. Clanging and crashes that resounded through the halls as his staff fought back against the mob. Judging by the screams of the villagers, they were doing a fairly good job at defending the castle.

Bucky turned back to the balcony, not daring to touch the rose on his shoulder again in case he knocked the remaining petals off.

He had moved his eyes to the dark wood where he’d last seen Steve and was trying to squash the hope kicking in his gut, when he heard the soft _click_ behind him.

“Hello, beast. I’m Rumlow. Steve sent me.”

Bucky shifted slightly to see behind him, and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. The beast inside him jolted, instincts screaming with fight or flight reflexes. Instead of acting upon either of those feelings, Bucky followed the line of the gun to the muscled man on the other end.

To the average person, he would have been intimidating. Veins lined the muscles of his arms, not dissimilar to the vines wrapping up Bucky’s own left arm. This man had messy black hair and a thick layer of stubble covering his jaw. When he grinned, his teeth showed and his eyes glinted. He stood tall, cockiness practically dripping from his skin.

Bucky held this man’s gaze evenly for a second, recognition sparking in the back of his mind, before turning away again, eyes returning to the front gates.

The next thing he was aware of was a sharp pain in his right shoulder, as a bullet tore through skin and muscle. Bucky dropped, roaring in pain, and clutched his shoulder. As he twisted, trying to see the damage, Rumlow rushed at him, shoving him into the windows with enough force that Bucky crashed through them.

Glass scattered across the balcony with light tinkles of sound, a harsh contrast from the initial loud crash as Bucky had broken through. The little crystals dug into his skin until blood beaded up and he turned to face his attacker.

Rumlow climbed through the jagged hole in the glass while Bucky stumbled to his feet. Rumlow rushed him again, hoisting him over the balcony railing before he could get his footing, though.

Bucky slid down the slope of the turret until he dug both hands into the wall, the beast snarling into action as it realized the danger it was in. He slid a few more feet, fingers and feet knocking shingles from the roof as they scrambled for a hold. Instead of stopping, he dropped right off onto a decorative overhang, this one much smaller than the balcony.

His chest heaved with each breath and Bucky lifted his head in time to see Rumlow sliding seamlessly down behind him. The man landed on his feet with ease and loomed over Bucky with a wild look in his eye.

“Come on, what’s the matter, beast? Too kind and gentle to fight _back_?” Rumlow’s shoulders shook with laughter and he threw his head back. He pushed his hair back, wet from the rain that had started falling from ominous clouds above.

Bucky curled his fingers around the edge of the overhang, tamping down the beast with difficulty. He turned his head away, closing his eyes against the rain. He could hear Rumlow retreading a few steps and ripping something off the side of the overhang.

As Rumlow approached him again, Bucky blinked at the distant sound of a familiar voice.

“Bucky!”

He lifted his head slightly, blinking rain from his eyes. Far below him, he could see Steve dismounting his horse and staring up in Bucky’s direction. Tony was with him, yelling something toward the other villagers as they fled the castle.

“Steve…”

Steve was… here. He had returned to the castle, had returned to Bucky. Bucky’s thoughts moved sluggishly, as if his brain was full of mud. Even after he had freed Steve, even after Steve had no reason to return to the castle, he had _come back_. The beast purred in delight, and Bucky’s lips turned up in the faintest smile. His Steve had come back to him… and he was yelling something, something at Bucky’s attacker…

“Rumlow! Rumlow, don’t!”

Bucky gave in to the beast, letting it take over his mind and body as quickly as the lightning that flashed overhead.

He turned, raising a hand in time to catch the stone spike as Rumlow started to bring it down on his head. He wrapped his fingers around it and held fast, rising to his feet as he watched surprise dawn on Rumlow’s face.

Bucky wrapped his other hand around the spike as well, pushing back against Rumlow’s hold on it. The taller man actually fell back a few steps, boots slipping on the wet stone beneath them.

He continued to push Rumlow back and back, until Rumlow had to jump to a turret, continuing to scramble back away from him as Bucky released his hold on the spike. Rumlow climbed over one of the stone outlines of a window, and still Bucky pursued him.

Rumlow continued to swing at Bucky with the spike whenever he had a chance, but the beast helped Bucky to dodge the attacks. He grabbed it again when Rumlow came too close and pushed back with enough force that Rumlow slipped down toward the edge of the turret roof.

Bucky snarled, jumping after him. He pushed against the man’s shoulders and they both went tumbling over the edge and rolling down a nearby roof. This roof sloped off into an actual walkway, and when they reached it Rumlow kicked Bucky away from him, snatching up his spike again.

While Rumlow stumbled up and wiped rain from his eyes, Bucky took the time to duck behind one of the many stone gargoyles that lined this path. He sucked in air, heart beating fast in his chest, as he listened to Rumlow smash one of the gargoyles.

“Come on out and fight!”

Bucky stayed hidden, listening to Rumlow’s slow approach.

“Were you in love with him, beast? Did you honestly think he’d want you, when he had someone like _me_?”

The words made Bucky bare his teeth and he felt his own primal rage, not just the beast’s, flare up in his chest. He watched Rumlow walk right past his hiding spot, looking in the opposite direction. When he had passed, Bucky rose to his feet, silent behind him as he followed each footstep.

The only warning Bucky got was Rumlow’s shoulders tensing up, but it was enough. As Rumlow swung the spike back toward him, Bucky ducked under it and behind Rumlow again. On the next swing, Bucky grabbed the spike with both hands and pushed again.

Both of them grappled for control of the spike, and eventually Bucky dropped it again. Rumlow swung again and again, his movements becoming more desperate as Bucky evaded each attack.

“It’s over, beast! Steve is _mine_!”

These words sent Bucky’s self-control hurtling into the void and the beast gladly took up the forefront of his mind. He lunged toward Rumlow, startling the other man, and grabbed the front of his shirt. He threw him up against the wall of the turret before swinging him out so he hung over open air.

Rumlow’s entire demeanor changed, and as he clutched to Bucky’s hands, he actually started to beg. “Please! Please, don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything! Anything!”

Staring at Rumlow, watching him frightened and desperate for another chance, Bucky was reminded of himself. All that time ago, kneeling at the feet of the enchantress he had wronged, he too had begged for a second chance. He had not been granted it, but Bucky… Bucky was not like that bitch.

He stepped back slowly, lowering his arms until Rumlow’s feet were on solid ground again, then Bucky released his hold on his shirt. It wasn’t until Rumlow had dropped and was touching the ground like he couldn’t believe he was alive, did Bucky step back.

The beast was still there, prowling around the edges of his mind, but it was quiet save for a quiet growl.

“Get out.” Bucky’s voice was still a low growl, but he didn’t feel like the beast was suffocating him. He felt… in control.

“Bucky!”

He turned and lifted his head to see Steve standing at the edge of the balcony above, looking relieved.

The tension melted out of Bucky’s shoulders and a smile graced his lips, “Steve.”

The turret was sloped and Bucky started to climb, Steve reaching a hand out to him. Bucky climbed to him, taking Steve’s hand in his. His other hand he wrapped around the railing, holding himself aloft.

Bucky released Steve’s hand so he could brush his own fingers against Steve’s cheek. He needed to be sure that this wasn’t some kind of illusion, and that Steve was truly here. “You came back.”

Steve smiled at him, blue eyes bright against the backdrop of grey sky. He wrapped his hand around Bucky’s wrist, squeezing.

He was real… he was here…

Bucky grinned behind his mask, opening his mouth, “Ste—“ The name broke off into a cry, Bucky twisting to find the source of the sudden pain in his side.

Rumlow was just beneath him, holding the hilt of the knife that was still buried in Bucky’s side. There was a wide, malicious grin on his face, but it quickly disappeared as the shingles shifted below his feet and he slipped, arms flailing.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he started to slip too, Steve catching his hand and gripping tight. He didn’t see so much as hear Rumlow’s screaming descent.

Steve held onto Bucky with both his hands, head falling for a second at the effort. Bucky could feel the shingles sliding away beneath him and he scrambled to find a foothold. The hand he had been holding onto to the balcony with now clutched his bleeding side.

Steve must have noticed the panic in his eyes when Bucky lifted his head, because he gritted out, “I’ve got you.”

The rain was still coming down in sheets though, making their hands slippery, and Bucky was never destined for a happy ending. His hand slid out of Steve’s and time seemed to pause for just a moment, Bucky staring up into sky blue eyes. It reminded him of the first time he had met Steve. Different storm, same eyes.

Then he was falling away with the shingles, nothing to grab onto as he slid right off the edge into open air.

As he stared up into clouds and pouring rain, all he could hear was Steve’s frantic voice echoing after him.

“Bucky!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!! No tricks today, just treats! Here's the second to last chapter for you all!

The pain that seared through his very being was unlike any he had felt before. As Bucky hit the cobblestone path leading to his front doors, he literally watched his life flash before his eyes.

He saw his childhood, marred by absent parents and the brief loss he felt when they passed. He saw himself playing games with a young red-head, faking sword fights and practicing his dancing as the girl laughed and knocked him on his ass. Bucky saw himself grow into a bitter adult, ruling his kingdom with an icy shoulder and a selfish heart. He watched as he begged at the feet of an enchantress, having revealed the hole in his chest where his heart should be. In pain and agony, he watched his transformation and the rose that bloomed beautifully on his left shoulder, even as its thorns drew blood. Each memory was dark and faded, a time long ago that he’d tried so hard to forget.

Then they started to brighten and clear. He watched the first time he had come face to face with Steve Rogers, staring into blue eyes with the faintest flecks of green, his new favorite color. Bucky watched as Steve cleaned his wounds even after Bucky had screamed at him and they’d both nearly died because of it. His heart swelled at the sight of them playing in the snow like children until their noses were red and their teeth chattered. He watched Steve’s face light up when Bucky had first shown him the library and he’d run from bookcase to bookcase, plucking books from the spots they hadn’t left for years. Steve had blown dust off them as he carefully turned old pages and closed his eyes as he breathed in the smell of old paper. It had brought a smile to Bucky’s lips and he had gone to Natasha a few nights later, scared of the strange feeling in his chest. The last memory almost seemed to play in slow motion, all bright yellow light and slow music. Bucky watched himself and Steve spin around the ballroom, falling into step with each other almost naturally, as if they had been made for one another. Two people destined to be together in every lifetime.

Then the pain came rushing back and he felt himself being moved onto his back. Bucky’s head was now resting on something soft, instead of the cold hard ground the rest of his body was subjected to. He concentrated on opening his eyes, only managing a crack, and he could see Steve above him. “Steve…”

His voice was weak even to his own ears, barely managing a whisper. He watched Steve’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat and his eyes were unusually shiny. “You came back.”

Steve’s lips wobbled into the smallest smile, and he stroked a hand along Bucky’s cheek, “Of course I came back. I couldn’t let them… Oh, Bucky… This is all my fault.”

Bucky didn’t like that. Steve hadn’t done anything, none of this was because of him. It all stemmed from Bucky being too selfish to let an old lady take shelter from a horrible storm. Bucky had brought this upon himself. His lips turned down in a frown, “Maybe… maybe it’s better this way.” Steve could be free, and not have to worry about Bucky snapping at him or making him a prisoner. Steve could be happy, without him.

But Steve shook his head furiously, “Don’t talk like that… You’ll be alright. We’re together now. And I’m with you... till the end of the line.”

The words made Bucky smile, even if he knew he wasn’t actually going to be alright. Even now his vision was blurring around the edges, darkening until Steve became his light at the end of the tunnel.

He smiled, feeling suffocated by the mask still secured across his face, and he used his diminishing strength to reach up and touch the side of Steve’s face. “At least… I got to see you… one last time.”

Tears tracked down Steve’s cheeks, mingling with the rain, and he reached up to cover Bucky’s hand with his own.

Bucky relished in the warmth of Steve’s skin, clinging to the sensation for as long as possible before he felt a tug at the back of his mind and he tumbled backward into darkness.

He couldn’t feel the pain anymore, nor could he feel the rain hitting his skin. He felt… cold. Weightless. Numb. It was an odd sensation, and he quickly gave up on trying to see through the void.

Bucky could only be glad that his last moments were spent with Steve. Personally, he wouldn’t have chosen any other way to go.

He thought back on his servants… the only people he could have considered his friends.

Sam, the one who’d always tried to stay positive and convince him that he’d one day break the curse. Perhaps now, he’d be able to help Steve stay positive and move on to a better life without Bucky.

Peggy, honestly the closest he had had to a motherly figure. She cared so much for him and took care of him all these years. Sure, she’d snapped at him a few times when he had been out of line, but she had still showed him compassion.

Natasha, his rock since he was a young boy. They’d grown up together, in very different roles but never judging the other. Bucky had crushed on her in his teenage years, but they’d never done anything about it, choosing to stay friends for the sake of Natasha keeping her job. As they’d grown older, Natasha had become even-footed, and tried to guide Bucky in the right direction. Unfortunately, he’d rarely listened.

Then he thought about Steve, this man that had stumbled into his life, dripping wet and shivering from a violent storm. Bucky had never believed that this stranger would have become so important to him in such little time. It had been… unnerving, scary, and exciting. Bucky was glad he’d even gotten the opportunity to meet Steve.

Now, whatever chances he’d thought he might have had, were gone. And that was… okay.

Steve had been upset, had actually cried over him, but Bucky was sure he would be fine. He could live a long, happy life without Bucky there to scare him or hurt him anymore. Steve wouldn’t have to worry anymore about the beast of a man that had imprisoned him because he was scared. He could be free, and live out the rest of his days surrounded by people that deserve him.

The darkness was suddenly split by a blinding light, and Bucky reeled back, squinting. From the light stepped a beautiful woman with dark skin and hair that tumbled down her back. Her green eyes glinted as she observed Bucky, red lips pursed in thought.

“James Buchanan Barnes. It has been a long time.”

Bucky stared at her in awe, “Enchantress…”

“Is it true, what you think? That Steve is better off without you?”

“Y-yes… He is. I’ve hurt him, scared him. I _imprisoned_ him. Now… now he can live as he pleases. He can fall in love and live a long, happy life. Without me. That’s all I want… For him to be happy.”

The enchantress nodded slowly, “That’s a very selfless way of thinking. You don’t mind that you’re dead?”

“No, ma’am. I’ve made horrible decisions in the past. But I died protecting him, from a horrible man. Saving him was one of the few good decisions I’ve ever made.”

Bucky could swear he saw the enchantress smile as she listened to him.

She tapped her chin with a finger, eyeing him. Then she tilted her head, looking just past Bucky’s head as if she was listening to something.

Bucky held his breath, catching the sound as well. Someone was… crying? He strained his ears and after a moment, recognized it as Steve’s own sobs. It made Bucky’s heart clench and he frowned. He heard Steve suck in a sharp breath, and then three little words floated down around him, just a whisper of wind in the dark:

“I love you.”

The enchantress smiled at the words, turning her attention back to Bucky, who stared up at her with a dumb-founded expression. “Well, Mr. Barnes. It seems you’ve been granted a second chance.”

The sound of the rain and Steve’s sobs amplified so quickly Bucky’s ears rang, and the Enchantress’ form faded until he was left in darkness. He could again feel the rain on his skin, cold and sharp, but he couldn’t open his eyes.

Small sounds joined the pounding rain, small swishes that were in sync with the gold light flashing behind his eyelids.

Bucky felt himself lift into the air, and heard Steve scrambling back on the cobblestones. The lights he couldn’t see became less of a flash and a more constant glow, growing brighter and brighter.

Amidst the cold rain, he also felt something warm touching his skin, just a feather-light brush. The feeling concentrated at his left shoulder, dripping slowly down to his fingertips. The lines of his skin where he was so used to feeling the vine and thorns of the rose, tingled oddly, almost an itch that he couldn’t scratch.

The bright glow started to fade as something buzzed under the skin of his left arm, and Bucky again felt the cold grooves of the cobblestones against his back.

His eyelids fluttered and Bucky squinted against the rain, groaning lightly at the feeling in his arm. He slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, and then to stand. Bucky turned his head to see what was wrong with his arm this time and was met with a new sight, after years of glaring at an enchanted rose.

In the rose’s place, he had scarring up and down his arm, etched as if the flower and vines themselves had sunken into his skin. It wasn’t quite a tattoo, but more raised lines that traveled all the way to his fingertips.

Bucky ran his hand over them, and was surprised to find they were sensitive, leaving a lingering tingle wherever his fingers touched. He was in the middle of tracing the lines of the rose when he heard Steve’s voice break behind him.

“Bucky.”

Bucky spun around so fast he nearly fell, eyes wide as saucers. “Steve… I… I’m _alive_. And the _curse_ …”

Steve moved closer to him, hands coming up to run through Bucky’s hair, and Bucky relished in the touch, leaning closer.

He watched quietly as Steve made a slow inspection of his eyes, hands traveling to Bucky’s shoulders. When Steve’s fingers brushed against the scar tissue, Bucky tensed, suddenly filled with worry that Steve would hate it.

His stomach dropped when Steve’s mouth turned down in a frown, but then Steve was reaching up to touch the muzzle. Bucky couldn’t help but pull away from the touch, Please, don’t…”

“Buck… do you trust me?”

Bucky looked back up into Steve’s eyes and tried to form words that could explain just _how much_ he trusted Steve. He’d never trusted anyone more, not even Natasha. It honestly scared him a bit, to trust someone so much that he was actually willing to drop his guard and be vulnerable. But this wasn’t about him trusting Steve, it was about him trusting his own control over the beast.

The beast, however, had fallen silent since the Enchantress had shown up, and Bucky could no longer feel its presence in his mind. It was… strange, almost lonely.

Bucky swallowed around his heart in his throat and gave Steve the smallest nod he could manage, just the slightest downward jerk of his chin.

It was enough for Steve, apparently, because he smiled a bit. He moved slowly, fingers brushing through Bucky’s hair to get to the clasp in the back that secured the mask to Bucky’s face. Once it was undone, Steve carefully removed the mask, dropping his hand to hold it at his side as his eyes flickered down to Bucky’s lips.

Bucky watched this whole ordeal, each second feeling like an hour. But then the mask was off and the cold air was curling against his exposed skin. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, chewing on it anxiously.

The mask fell to the cobblestones between them with a clatter as Steve took a step closer.

Bucky took Steve’s closeness as an opportunity to lift his hands, pressing just the pads of his fingers to Steve’s jaw and trying not to stare in awe at the smooth skin. His eyes dropped to Steve’s lips, and suddenly Steve was much closer.

The kiss was small, just skin against skin, with Steve’s hand gently curling around the back of Bucky’s head and threading through his hair. Just that contact sent Bucky’s heart slamming against his chest, and he figured if he was going to have a heart attack _now_ , it was going to be from a proper kiss.

So, he wrapped a hand around the back of Steve’s neck, pulling lightly to urge him closer. The needy sound that came in the back of his throat as he did so would have embarrassed him, if it didn’t encourage Steve as much as it seemed to.

Bucky could feel Steve smile against his lips and it was the best feeling he’d ever experienced. Every move Steve made was deliberate, genuine, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt _loved_.

They didn’t break apart until they noticed the rain had stopped, and Bucky couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh. He’d never felt so happy.

Steve pressed another kiss to his temple, and blue sparks jumped up around them, soaring up to the castle. The lights rained down the castle, leaving pristine white marble in their wake and transforming each twisted gargoyle into a grinning cherub.

The clouds above parted and cleared to reveal blue skies and bright sunlight. The vines that had started to climb the castle remained, but now roses started to bloom along them, bright spots of red against the smooth white.

Bucky was so enraptured by the beauty of his restored castle, that when he finally pulled his gaze away, he was met with the sight of a very human Peggy, Sam, and Natasha.

Sam dusted off his clothes, his skin dark and smooth in the sunlight. His eyes lit up when he saw Bucky and he grinned with a slight gap between his front teeth.

Peggy crossed her arms but had a smile on her face, reassuring Bucky that she wasn’t going to whoop his ass for the years she had spent as a teapot.

Natasha propped her hand on her hip, eyes taking in the change in the castle. To the untrained eye, she would seem unimpressed, but Bucky knew she was happy from the slightest upward turn of her lips.

“Natasha! Sam! Peggy!” Bucky actually ran to them, wrapping his arms around them. “Look at you guys!” Seeing his friends were human again, Bucky could be sure that the curse had truly been lifted and they were all going to be okay. They made it.

Sam let out a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder, “Man, it’s good to be back.”

Steve had a fond smile on his face when Bucky turned back to him with a grin. “We will have a party,” Bucky announced, “to celebrate!”

Immediately Sam, Natasha, and Peggy jumped into action, disappearing inside and calling for the other servants.

As Bucky returned to Steve, taking his hand, he saw Tony standing just inside the doors. Bucky’s chest tightened in guilt, especially when he saw Tony eyeing him nervously.

“Tony… I want you to meet Bucky.” Steve took control, squeezing Bucky’s hand lightly. When Tony’s lips twitched like he wanted to say something, Steve gave him a look.

Bucky was surprised when instead of making a comment about how they’d first actually met, Tony stuck a hand out, pursing his lips. “Nice to meet you, Buckaroo.”

Not one to be outdone, Bucky raised his eyebrows and took Tony’s offered hand to shake, “And you, Tin-man.”

Tony’s attention snapped back to Steve, and he actually pressed a hand to his chest dramatically, “I tried to make a suit of armor _one time_. I thought I could trust you with that story.”

Steve grinned, eyes glinting, “I never swore to secrecy.”

“You play a hard game, Rogers.” Tony pointed a finger at him sharply before turning a charming smile Bucky’s way, “I have an _abundance_ of stories about ol’ Steve, here, if you ever want to hear them.”

Bucky nodded interestedly, grinning, “We’ll have to sit down and have a nice long talk, I think.”

Steve snorted lightly and Bucky twined his fingers with his, beaming.

Bucky led the way inside, and Sam introduced himself to Tony, leading him to one of the guest rooms where he could stay temporarily.

Once they were alone in the entry way, save for the servants milling about already getting things ready, Bucky tugged Steve into another kiss. He would never tire of the feeling of Steve pressed close to him, hands warm and calloused against his jaw.

He sighed softly through his nose as Steve pressed a few kisses to his jaw, petting Bucky’s hair back.

“A party?” Steve looked down at him curiously.

Bucky grinned lightly, “I may be using it as an excuse to dance with you again.”

Steve laughed softly, arm wrapping around Bucky’s waist, “Seems a bit much just for a dance.”

“The staff will enjoy it", Bucky insisted, nuzzling close and letting his eyes close as he listened to Steve’s heart beat a steady rhythm.

Bucky could have stayed that way forever, safe and secure in the circle of Steve’s arms, but Natasha barked at them from the stairs.

“Boys! We’re never going to get you two ready for the party if you keep clinging to each other like leeches. Let’s go.”

Bucky grinned lightly, squeezing Steve’s hand before grudgingly following Natasha to his quarters.

The space Bucky had practically confined himself too when the curse had been at its peak had been returned to its former glory along with the rest of the castle. The furniture was all intact and the paintings were unmarred. Untouched curtains fluttered in a slight breeze from the open doors. Bucky had almost forgotten what it was like to have a room without at least a hint of misery.

“You should have listened to me. I told you it would be fine.” Natasha crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

Bucky huffed, rolling his eyes, “If you don’t remember, I was having a hard time staying completely human myself. Even your voice of reason was pretty hazy.”

Natasha softened, “I’m glad you finally met the one. Not just because I was getting sick of being a clock, but because I’m glad to see you happy for once. I don’t think I’ve seen you really smile since we were kids, until now.”

Bucky smiled lightly, “Thank you, Natasha.”

She waved off the thanks, starting to walk to his wardrobe.

He caught her hand, waiting until she was looking at him before insisted, “Really, Natasha. Thank you.”

Natasha’s lips twitched into a smile and she nodded, “Anytime, James. Now, you have a party to get ready for.”

Bucky had a new-found appreciation for how quickly his staff was able to put together a party. The next day, Peggy and her workers had whipped up the best desserts and pickings, and there was a whole table against one of the walls of the ballroom stacked with different food selections. The ballroom was lit up with candles, much like during Bucky and Steve’s first dance. Most of the guests were his staff, in their finest clothes to celebrate as they talked excitedly to each other about the curse being lifted.

As Bucky slowly made his way through the crowd, greeting his staff and taking time to talk to each of them, he happened upon Peter, head of housekeeping. Bucky found him hovering near the edge of the dancefloor, chewing his lip as he watched someone on the other side.

When he paused nearby, Bucky realized that Peter was staring at Wade, the man who had been turned into the footstool.

“Why don’t you see if he wants to dance?”

Peter jumped when Bucky spoke, swiveling to face his prince as a blush spread across his cheeks, “S-sir!”

Bucky frowned, moving to stand beside him, “It’s all right. ‘Bucky’ is fine. Really, though, why don’t you dance with Wade?”

“I really couldn’t… I mean, I’m fine over here. I wasn’t—…is it that obvious?” Peter gave him a pained look, deflating a bit.

Bucky gave him a smile, “A bit.” He nodded toward Wade, “I’m sure he’d be ecstatic to dance with you. All you have to do is ask.”

Peter shifted from foot to foot nervously. With a final glance at Bucky, he worked his way around the dance floor. When he paused, Wade looked shocked, hand coming up to rub anxiously against the back of his neck.

Bucky watched them talk for a moment, unable to hear their conversation, but eventually Wade’s scarred face lit up and he nodded quickly, holding a hand out to Peter. As the two moved onto the dance floor, taking up position, Peter caught Bucky’s eye and grinned thankfully.

Tony had invited a friend to the ball, a tall red-headed woman who had arrived in a navy blue dress, carrying a basket full of fresh bread. Needless to say, Peggy had adored her immediately. Bucky had yet to meet her, but he thought Steve had called her Pepper.

On his way around the room, Bucky also met briefly with Clint, who had turned into a wardrobe. Clint waved off any apologies he had tried to give, and had plucked two glasses of champagne from the table, one for him and one for Natasha.

“Shit happens,” he had so eloquently put as he grinned at Bucky and left to find Natasha.

Bucky had found Thor near the dessert end of the table, and the man had turned to him with half a cupcake already in his mouth. Thor clapped him on the back with a bright grin and they had talked for a few moments as well, before Bucky helped him sneak a few cookies.

He finally spied Steve across the room and made his way to him, taking in the sight of the blonde hair and wide shoulders. Bucky tapped him lightly on the shoulder when he reached him, melting when he was met with eyes the color of the ocean.

Steve wrapped an arm around him, reeling him in close for a kiss as Bucky laughed softly. He murmured soft words against Bucky’s lips, “Took you long enough.”

Bucky would tell him later about his argument with Natasha about whether he could leave his hair down like he wanted or if he had to put his hair up like she wanted. Naturally, his hair was now up in a messy bun, tied with a blue bow.

He grinned, giving the room another quick look. He could only hope that his staff would truly accept his apologies and forgive him for what he had caused.

Steve gave him a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth to get his attention, “Buck.”

His heart swelled at the nickname and he returned his attention to Steve, leaning into him. As Steve laced their fingers, Bucky followed him onto the dance floor. He could hear the room around them hush a bit as Steve pulled him close and they started their slow steps.

“I thought I was too late,” Steve admitted in a murmur, just for Bucky to hear as they spun.

Bucky squeezed the hand that he held, smiling gently, “Steve… I’m okay.”

Steve nodded, swinging Bucky out before reeling him back in close so Bucky’s back was against Steve’s chest. Bucky shivered when Steve’s mouth brushed his ear, voice quiet, “How’s your arm?”

Bucky rolled his left shoulder lightly, and Steve turned him back to face him as he answered, “It’s… weird. It looks weird.”

“It’s beautiful, Bucky. Everything about you is.”

He felt the heat rush into his cheeks at Steve’s words, “Yeah, well. I pride myself on my good looks.”

Steve laughed at that, tucking Bucky in close to his chest.

They took a few more turns before Bucky noticed Peggy over Steve’s shoulder. She was watching them dance, nodding to herself as she watched their steps. She looked beautiful in a deep red dress that matched her lips, and Bucky smiled. He leaned close to whisper, “I think someone else wants to dance with you as well.”

Steve blinked at him in confusion, following Bucky’s gaze over his shoulder to Peggy.

Peggy smiled at them, raising one eyebrow.

Steve grinned lightly, giving Bucky a kiss before releasing him and going to Peggy.

Bucky made his way over to Sam, watching the other man grin at him as he approached.

“Feels a lot better not having to worry about my joints rusting. It was getting hard to move.” Sam rolled his shoulders and neck as dramatically as he could manage.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow, snorting, “See, I just assumed you were getting old.” He laughed when Sam shoved him slightly and muttered, “Fuck off, Barnes.”

“Really, though, man. Great job with Steve. You guys are great together.” Sam smiled, genuine in his words as they watched Steve and Peggy twirl.

Bucky nodded, eyes on Steve, “I can only hope that I actually deserve him.”

He saw Sam glance at him out of the corner of his eye but the other man didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Barnes. You don’t need to worry about us, really. We’re happy for you, and we’re glad you didn’t actually die out there. We were worried. But none of us hate you or anything for what happened.”

Bucky nodded quietly as he listened. He glanced over at Sam, finding only honesty etched across his features, “Thank you, Sam.”

Sam smiled, nodding.

Bucky returned the smile before slowly going back to the dance floor. As Steve spun Peggy out to arm’s length, Bucky took her other hand and stole her away from Steve. “Thank you for keeping him occupied, Pegs. I appreciate it.” He gave her a peck on the cheek and stepped back to bow low, “Would you mind if I take him back?”

“Not at all, James. Have a nice night, boys.” Peggy smiled fondly, nodding to them both before accepting Sam’s hand to dance.

Bucky and Steve only lasted a few more minutes, tucked in close together as they swayed more than actually danced, before Bucky looked up, “Why don’t we tuck in early? It’s been a _long_ day.”

Steve nodded, using a finger to tilt Bucky’s chin up to kiss him, “Alright.” He squeezed Bucky’s hand, tugging gently to lead Bucky upstairs.

Tucked away in the dark of Steve’s bedroom, they took their time in exploring each other and it occurred to Bucky that there may be just a bit of beast left in him after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is! The final chapter! I can't thank you all enough for sticking with me through this. I know it took forever for me to get this one out (I Want You to Want Me literally took me like two months to write and post, whereas this took like an actual year and a half). I really hope you all enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Also a big thank you to my beta reader, Lila (silverscales-anda-redstar on Tumblr)! I couldn't have done all this without your continued support and encouragement when I just wasn't in the right mind to write. Thank you for helping me find all the moments where I forgot that Bucky had a mask on and Steve couldn't properly enjoy his smile. You mean the world to me!
> 
> If any of you guys wanna chat, I'm on Tumblr as bucky-butt, or you can find me on Insta if you're into that (alyse_beemster). I'm open to new fic ideas, so feel free to reach out! I'm working on two stories, one Klance and one Stucky, so hopefully I'll be posting more fics soon!

[8 months later]

Their wedding went off without a hitch, just a small intimate gathering to form their union. Steve and Bucky had lasted two hours at the reception before Bucky caved and tugged Steve with him as he slipped upstairs.

Natasha had made eye contact with him as they snuck off, shaking her head in exasperation before going to distract the guests. A true friend.

He had proposed to Steve two months ago, in the most Bucky way possible. He’d listened to Steve talk about his favorite books as they were curled together in a plush chair definitely not meant for two. Steve had mentioned that his favorite was pretty ironically their entire love story, _Beauty and the Beast_. Bucky had gently prodded Steve’s side, pointing out that Steve was definitely the “beauty” in the story, and Steve had thrown his head back in laughter. Bucky loved it.

With Natasha’s help, he had found a copy of the book in his library and carved a little square out of the middle of the pages. Inside, he safely tucked a golden band with a rose etched into the side. He’d closed the book, set it aside, and stared at it for a good ten minutes before snatching it up. Bucky opened the pages a few times, trying to convince himself that he was just doing it to make sure the pages would open properly once he set his plan into action.

In this moment, his nerves returned to him. He could only hope that Steve would accept his proposal. He didn’t stop messing with the book until Natasha squeezed his shoulder and carefully took the book from him, setting it on the table by the fireplace.

Bucky had gone to Steve, asking him to read the story to him, and Steve had smiled, agreeing immediately. They settled themselves on the couch that Bucky had brought into the library for their comfort, and handed Steve the book. He’d watched with twitching fingers as Steve opened the book up and then paused, staring. Steve hadn’t looked scared or upset, just… dumb-founded.

Bucky’s eyes never left Steve as he carefully removed himself from the couch and lowered himself onto one knee. He gulped, gently placing a hand on Steve’s knee.

When Steve looked up at him, his face split into a smile and he practically engulfed Bucky in his hug, giving him an ecstatic “yes” in response.

Now, two months later, Bucky pressed Steve up against the door of their bedroom, kissing his neck as he scrambled blindly for the door handle.

The door fell open, and the two almost fell in after it, laughter on their lips as they stumbled to the bed. Bucky left open-mouthed kisses on Steve’s throat, Steve tipping his head back and running course hands through Bucky’s hair in turn.

Bucky whined when Steve sunk his teeth into his lower lip and muttered, “Go get out of your suit.”

He couldn’t help the mischievous grin that spread across his face as he looked up at Steve through his eyelashes, “Stevie, I’d rather _you_ take it off for me.”

But the look Steve gave him was stern, insistent even as his lip quivered and he fought a smile, “These are nice suits. Probably cost a fortune. And they’re from our _wedding_. We’re not ripping these ones like we did the others.”

Bucky groaned, shoving Steve back onto the bed as he straightened and started removing his jacket and shirt, “ _Fine_. But only because I can’t wait to see that perky little ass.” He’d started using the term as often as he could, and he laughed at the look on Steve’s face every time.

The first time Tony had heard him say that, he’d accused him of stealing his line.

Clothes safely away from anywhere they might get torn or ruined, Bucky returned to his newly wed with enthusiasm.

Steve’s recovery always took a bit longer than Bucky’s, but Bucky was fine with that. Once they were clean and clad back in their boxers, he pressed lazy kisses to Steve’s collarbone, one hand splayed on his abdomen. He loved feeling the rise and fall of Steve’s skin with each deep breath he took.

The hand in Bucky’s hair carded through the strands a few times before traveling down his neck and brushing over the scars on his shoulder.

Bucky frowned, glancing up at Steve. He knew Steve admired the scars, even going as far as sketching them regularly, but he still couldn’t bring himself to feel any pride in them. He didn’t think they were beautiful, as Steve said, rather quite the opposite.

Steve would still leave lingering kisses on the sensitive skin, never once flinching at their feel or appearance. Each movement he made was confident and fond, and it would eventually soothe Bucky enough that he’d relax once more.

Before he even had a chance to open his mouth, Steve was rolling over to hover over him, forcing eye contact, “Buck. You know I love every part of you.”

Bucky managed a weak grin, trying his best to seem genuine and crack a joke, “Some parts more than others.” He ran his hands through Steve’s hair, watching the man push up into his touch like a cat.

Steve smiled down at him, starting his shower of kisses onto the scar tissue. Bucky watched him quietly, eyes following the lines of Steve’s face and the way his hair was just long enough to fall over his forehead a bit.

Sometimes Bucky wished he could draw Steve the same way Steve draws him, with ease and such love in the strokes of his pencils that the images themselves felt alive.

Steve would let him peek over his shoulder if Bucky found him sketching in the garden. Mostly he would just tuck his head into the crook of Steve’s neck and watch the muscles in his hand twitch with each movement.

His favorites were the ones Steve did of his eyes. Bucky had grown so used to the flat, miserable eyes in every family painting that used to hang in his quarters. Now, he had replaced them with Steve’s own drawings, displaying them proudly. The way Steve drew his eyes were lively, paying careful attention to the lines in the corners that appeared whenever Bucky smiled.

Of course, the sketches of Natasha placing a crown of roses atop Bucky’s head are high on his list of favorites as well.

Bucky watched Steve press a kiss to his shoulder again before he tugged lightly at his hair, urging him to come back up to him.

Steve smiled into their kiss, a breathed “I love you” coming from one of them, though they weren’t sure who.

Bucky was the one who pulled back slightly when he realized his eyes were wet, blinking the tears free of his vision.

The first few slid down his face, but Steve caught the next ones, leaving gentle kisses across Bucky’s cheeks. Steve rubbed his thumbs against Bucky’s jawline, quiet and patient.

“I never thought I would get this.” The words came out quieter than Bucky intended, but he continued on, “This… life. After everything, I never thought I would find someone who loved me. I didn’t think it was possible.”

When the enchantress had first burdened him with this curse, he’d hated her and hated everyone around him for letting this happen to him. Bucky didn’t know how to claim responsibility for his own selfishness, and was too prideful to even consider it might be his own damn fault.

Steve’s appearance had been his first shred of hope in years, and he’d clung to it and his fear of the curse so strongly that he’d almost lost Steve twice. But each time, Steve had returned to him and now… now they were together, forever. But, the scars were there to remind him every day of his foolish mistake.

“Buck…”

Bucky shook his head, pushing Steve away enough that he could roll onto his feet and pace. He felt restless, as he did at times. He thought it was a lingering effect from the beast. Bucky chewed his lip, words starting to pour out of him so quickly he was only half aware of what he was saying, “I _hate_ these damn scars. It’s like a brand. A reminder that I’m just a beast, of everything that I’ve done. Just look what I did to _you_.” He threw his hand in the vague direction of Steve’s chest, where he could see the shiny little scars from when Steve carried him out of the woods with thorns pressed up against his skin. He felt his fists clench at his sides and he shook with his barely contained anger.

“Bucky. There’s nothing wrong with you. And I’m fine. You didn’t do this, I did it to myself so I could get you home.”

The words washed over Bucky but nothing stuck, he kept pacing. He absently rubbed a hand over his scars, staring at the ground, “Why didn’t the rose completely disappear? Does it mean I haven’t truly changed? That I’m still a beast?” The words kept coming, and he couldn’t stop himself now that he’d started.

He stalked to the dresser, ripping open a drawer and pulling the muzzle out. Even after all this time, he’d kept it tucked away in case something happened and the beast reared its ugly head again. “I wasn’t supposed to love anyone. The witch didn’t want me to. That’s why she gave me this damn thing. To make me look dangerous. Feral. It made me unlovable. Maybe that’s what I was, what I am.” His voice cracked on the last word and he stopped, breathing heavily as he dropped his eyes to the floor again. “Maybe there was never a way to save me. There sure as hell wasn’t any reason to.”

“That’s enough.” Steve’s voice was sharp enough that it made Bucky lift his head and look to him, shoulders slumped. Steve’s eyes were focused and unwavering, staring into Bucky’s own.

Bucky stared back, stuck between wanting to dare Steve to deny it and wanting to beg him to say everything was all right.

Steve slowly got to his feet, eyes never leaving Bucky’s. He stepped forward until he could take Bucky’s hands in his own, making Bucky drop the muzzle in exchange for gripping Steve’s fingers. Steve lifted their joined hands to press kisses to Bucky’s fingers and palms. “You’re beautiful. And I love you. Nothing will change that.”

Bucky shook under Steve’s attention, biting his lip to keep it from quivering.

“You don’t need saving. And if you do, I’ll be there for you. Till the end of the line.”

The words broke Bucky, and he stumbled forward into Steve, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He pressed his face into Steve’s chest, breathing in his scent and listening to his heart beat against his ear.

Steve continued to kiss his ears and neck, all the while whispering to him, “I love you, Buck. More than anything. Nothing can ever change that.”

Bucky was silent for a few moments, still regaining his composure. Finally, he was able to manage a smile and murmur, “…Not even when I hog the blankets?”

Steve chuckled, petting his hair, “Even when you hog the blankets, I love you. I just don’t like you at that particular moment.”

Bucky grinned into his chest, kissing the scars dotting Steve’s collarbone. He tried to send his shame and apologies into each press of skin, desperate for Steve to know how much he regretted causing Steve harm.

Settled and feeling back in his right mind, Bucky lifted his head. He knew how to make up for his outburst, and he licked his upper lip. Once he saw Steve’s eyes flick down to his mouth, he pulled his lower lip into his mouth, biting lightly in a way that he knew drove Steve crazy.

“I’m glad to see you have a lot of faith in my stamina.” Steve grinned and laughed when Bucky pushed him backward onto the bed.

Bucky mirrored the grin, spreading his arms wide. He preened when Steve’s gaze traveled down his abdomen, and he couldn’t help his own gaze exploring exposed skin as well. “Now, now, Stevie. This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. I don’t let just anyone be graced with my presence. And you’re the lucky guy who gets to bask in my glow for the rest of your life.”

He doesn’t know what he did, but Steve was all of a sudden laughing to the point where he was doubled over and clutching his stomach. Bucky blinked slowly at him, confused.

Steve stumbled up, cradling Bucky’s face in his hands and kissing him deeply, “I didn’t think I’d ever enjoy hearing those words.”

Bucky was still confused, but he’d ask Steve for details later. For now, he just wanted to enjoy his company. He kissed him again, fingers curling in the short blonde hairs at Steve’s neck. It only took a parting of lips and him running his tongue over Steve’s lower lip for the other man to open his mouth as an invitation.

He couldn’t help the moan that forced itself from his throat as Steve’s tongue slid against his, and he laughed when Steve lifted him. Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, a hand against his chin and jaw while his other arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Steve shuddered under him when Bucky dragged his hips up against his abdomen, and he laid Bucky on the bed. When he hovered over him, Bucky could see Steve’s eyes roving over his bare skin and he happily returned the gesture.

He drank in the sharp curve of Steve’s jaw, and the slope of his neck. His eyes zeroed in on the little blonde hairs that were already appearing along Steve’s jawline and around his mouth. Bucky admired the muscles that rippled under his smooth skin and the intense shape that his shoulders and waist formed. He settled on his favorite, the color of Steve’s eyes and the look that came over his face whenever he was looking at Bucky. The closest word Bucky could find for it was ‘adoration.’

Bucky couldn’t believe how lucky he was. This was all his.

“Any day now, old man.” He grinned up at Steve, “I’d like to move on, if you’re done ogling me.” As if he wasn’t doing the same.

Steve smiled, sweeter than Bucky had expected, and responded with “I could do this all day.”

“I know what I could do all day.” Bucky pushed himself up and hooked a hand around the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, all tongue and teeth.

But yeah, he could ogle Steve all day, too.

[1 week later]

As Bucky trudged up the front steps of the castle, he couldn’t help but feel proud of the progress he had made today. He had recently taken up visiting Tony in the village and helping him with his contraptions. Bucky loved hearing Tony talk about the science behind each doodad and how a combination of simple parts could make something so elaborate. Today, they’d started building some new contraption for the upcoming science fair.

Pepper had stopped by the house as well, with her usual basket of pastries. She’d let Bucky take some, and he was happy to send along a little ‘hello’ from her to Steve. He was sure Steve would be happy to hear she was still regularly visiting Tony.

On his way inside, he stopped by the kitchen to say hello to Peggy and to drop off the pastries.

“Are those from Pepper?” Peggy beamed when he came in, taking the basket from him and inhaling the smell of fresh bread and muffins. She would invite Pepper over every once and while and the two would gossip and trade recipes over tea.

Bucky nodded, “Freshly made today. She says hello.”

Peggy gave him a smile, offering him some tea that Bucky politely declined before heading upstairs.

His quarters were open, but the bathroom door was shut. Bucky put a hand on the doorknob, knocking lightly before opening the door a crack, “Stevie?”

Steve was inside, settled all the way up to his neck in bath water. Little bubbles floated with him, a few stray ones balanced in his hair. On the table beside him was a book, a glass of red wine, and Bucky’s old muzzle. “Hey. How was your day with Tony?” Steve smiled, sitting up more and propping his chin on his arm, balanced on the rim of the tub.

Bucky eyed the mask for a moment before stepping further in, toeing off his boots and leaving them by the door. “Amazing. We’re building a machine to help Pepper with the bakery. Like an assistant.”

“So, they’re still hanging out?”

Bucky grinned, nodding, “Oh, of course. She brings him breakfast every morning, you know. And he makes her coffee. It’s sickeningly adorable.” He stepped closer, crouching next to the tub and placing a kiss on Steve’s temple.

Steve hummed lightly, eyes closing. His face looked pinched, and his shoulders were tense. It made Bucky frown.

“Stevie? What’s wrong? You have your thinking face on.”

When Steve looked up at him, Bucky cupped his face in his palm, brushing his thumb over his jaw in encouragement.

Steve sighed, “The kingdoms are starting to talk… They think you made a bad decision.”

Bucky blinked slowly at him, not understanding, but Steve pressed on, “A bad decision in marrying me.”

He felt his blood spike in anger and Bucky pushed himself abruptly to his feet, immediately starting his pacing, “How could they say that? They have no idea what they’re talking about.” These kingdoms had never come to their aid when his whole castle was cursed, and they hadn’t given a damn all those years there was silence coming from the Barnes’ residence. Now that he had married Steve, now that he was happy, they decided to start getting involved?

Steve just shrugged, eyes following him from one side of the room to the other, “I’m just a peasant Bucky, you deserve better.”

Bucky froze, turning slowly to him, “Don’t say that. Because it’s not true.” He returned to the side of the tub in just a few steps, standing over Steve with shaking hands, “You’re more than I have ever deserved. Don’t ever think differently.”

Steve shifted, intertwining their fingers, “Buck…”

Bucky could hear the argument forming on his tongue, so he cut him off, “No. Steve, I love you. Do you know how much?” The moment Steve shook his head, Bucky braced his hands on the lip of the tub, using it as leverage as he stepped into the tub.

The water soaked his socks, making him shudder in disgust, but he continued until he was standing in water up to his knees.

“Bucky?! What are you doing?!” Steve moved back so fast the water made little waves, and he backed up until he hit the other end of the tub.

Bucky just quirked an eyebrow down at him, sliding in the rest of the way into the warm water. Water sloshed over the edges of the tub onto the floor as he settled with his knees on either side of Steve’s thighs, kissing him.

Steve sighed, the tension in his shoulders leaving with the rush of air, and he reached a hand up into Bucky’s hair.

His lips were warm against Bucky’s and Bucky smiled as he leaned back, “I love you more than I hate wet socks.”

It took Steve a couple seconds, but then he was laughing so hard he was shaking. He cupped Bucky’s jaw in his hand, dropping his head into his neck as he laughed.

Bucky kissed his temple, smiling into his skin. He lifted his eyes and his gaze fell upon the muzzle on the table. A soft noise of question raised in his throat, and he felt more than saw Steve look up at him.

He reached past Steve, picking it up carefully. Bucky turned it in his hands, looking it over. How something so small could have such a powerful hold on him was a mystery to him. Bucky hadn’t taken the muzzle out since their wedding day, and he wondered what Steve was doing it now…

Unless Steve wanted Bucky to start wearing it again.

Bucky frowned, not even noticing he was pulling the mask closer to his face until water splashed and Steve grabbed his wrists. Bucky froze, looking up at Steve in surprise.

“Why would you ever want to cover such wonderful lips?” Steve’s words made him drop his eyes again, but he quirked a smile.

He tossed the mask over his shoulder, hearing it clatter against the floor. Bucky sank into Steve, and the other man rose up to meet him in the middle with a soft kiss.

They didn’t speak again for a while, just sat slotted together in the tub until the water was chilly and they were both stiff.

The muzzle stayed on the floor even when they moved to the warm bed. It couldn’t hurt him anymore.


End file.
